


Payment in Blood

by SnowCrazy15



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Background Het, Backstory, F/M, POV First Person, POV Original Female Character, Past Tense, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-05-15 01:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5765926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowCrazy15/pseuds/SnowCrazy15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice knows how to survive. The things she's seen, been through, are nothing compared to the man who caused it. It's hard to let go of the anger when that man is standing right in front of you. Alice will have to learn how to swallow her revenge, or finally get what she deserves. Payment in blood. (Daryl/OC, eventual smut. Angst, survival, and remembering how to be human in a world of monsters)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely reader. I thank you for clicking on this little fanfic of mine. It's a small start, not much to go on, but I have real hopes for this.   
> This is a Daryl/OC fanfic, and my first Walking Dead fic. I adore zombie stories, so this is a great way to express what I love, in a way that I love!  
> I will be changing a few things. Not the characters or anything like that, but I won't always be following cannon storylines. Sometimes, yes, but not always. If you're up for that, then I'm up for continuing! Oh, and just so you know, Alice is British - so that's not me as an author getting Americanisms wrong, that's Alice's English-ness shining through.  
> This will be set in 'Now' and 'Then'. Possibly in Daryl's POV too. It'll make sense as it goes.  
> So, yes, this is the first fic I've done properly in a long time. Comments are so welcomed and looked forward to, but please, be gentle as I unwind OK? OK, thanks! Onwards!

Cold.

If ever I had the opportunity to be warm again, I would take it, hands down. Because there's nothing worse than being cold. Not just chilly - not just feeling a slight breeze on exposed shoulders. No, I'm talking about numb toes, aching fingers, bone deep cold. The kind where you feel like you're never going to warm up. The kind that ten more layers doesn't even touch.

That's how I felt, all the time.

Fucking _cold_.

I stood there, my arms wrapped around my chest, with the thick coat I found still stinking of rancid puke and piss. The smell wouldn't wipe up, and I couldn't afford the hour it would take to let it dry if I washed it. There was no where I could stop long enough to light a fire, and the coat - even if it was massive - was the best winter one I'd found in days. So for the sake of my survival, I ignored the acrid stink of sick.

The houses that had first been scattered on my way towards the town were now thick and demanding, lining the streets in perfect rectangle blocks. All the same dreary grey, all the same bleak design.

Some kind of superb, I reckoned. It would be good to check them, because as it was going, my supplies had dwindled to one lone tea bag and a tin of tuna. I didn't have any water, and spit was gathering next to my tongue the further I walked.

My body stood rigid as there was a flutter of tinkering from my left. I stood, barely letting my foot touch the floor as I narrowed my eyes and scanned for the threat. Another tinker.

I felt my body move with the second chime, bending at the knees and getting low so as to not get spotted. There had been a surprising lack of anything as I approached the city from the west. Cities were not where I wanted to be, nor would I even try to go if I could avoid it. My hand went instinctively to my stomach, resting there as I continued to scan.

There.

I saw it, hovering by the doorway of a house three to my right. It had no real motion to it's movements, just standing there and seemingly hovering in the breeze. The wind chime slapping against it's unknowing face must have been what attracted it. I sighed and shook my head, feeling a squirming sensation against my stomach.

I hushed a coo under my breath, rubbing the flat of my palm against the bump again.

I needed food, desperately. OK, so probably water first. Not that I had ever particularly liked water, but after so long with nothing but, it was growing on me. Nothing like the sweet taste of flavourless liquid to wet a dry throat.

There was a strained moan and I looked up, almost forgetting about the threat ahead.

If I could call a lone biter a threat.

Moving only my arm, I kept my eyes focused as the thing seemed to notice me. Maybe my scent had caught on the breeze, or maybe I had kicked something with a careless foot. Whatever the cause was, it didn't matter. The haggard face turned to me, unable to watch as it's eyeballs had long since decayed. It just stared at me with hollow sockets, swaying, waiting to see if I moved.

I did, slowly. So slowly it couldn't catch on. The knife I pulled from the holder I'd made against my wrist slipped free. Nothing seemed to feel more comfortable than the smooth, cool leather of the handle. It was like it had moulded to my touch, every dip and curve given way to fit perfectly in my palm.

It was just from overuse. I hadn't let go of this handle since the day it came into my possession.

Moving to straighten my back, standing at my full height (there certainly wasn't much of that anyway), I faced it. The creature. The thing. A rotting corpse reanimated, hell-bent on munching the flesh from my bones.

The blade caught the faint afternoon sun, casting a sharp light into the biter's bare sockets. I don't know how, nor do I really care to understand how it seemed to see that. I just braced my legs as it started to shamble closer. When it was in reaching distance, I raised my leg and delivered a swift blow into it's stomach, trying my hardest not to react as my foot damn near went right through. It knocked it over, nonetheless, and I used the momentum to swirl forward and stab my knife down to the hilt into it's skull.

"Oh that's so gross," I hissed, pulling my hand back only to have it come away with matted pieces of lumpy brain attached. I grimaced and groaned, wiping the blade against the tattered pieces of the biter's shirt.

I would have wiped my hand on it too, but it looked like there was more blood and guts on that shirt then on my hand, so I wiped it on the coat instead. These days, who cared about a little brain?

I sheathed my blade back into the wrist holder and continued forward.

It wasn't hard to tell that these houses had long since been picked clean, but who knew? This was all unfamiliar territory now anyway, so why not search a little. There could be a chance I'd find somewhere with running water.

My heart jumped in my chest at the mere thought of running water. Be it hot, cold, tepid or freezing - I couldn't care less so long as it was _clean_.

The first house that drew my attention was the one with the wind chime. It probably wouldn't be the best house to go for, because if it had attracted one rambler then it could have attracted more. They could be inside.

Shrugging my rucksack higher up my shoulders, I kept myself low to the ground. My feet picked over the rubble of the tarmac, far too used to uneven surfaces to trip. It was incredible how much my body had changed over time. How much my senses had adapted. It should never have happened, don't get me wrong. Hell, I would give anything to go back to the podgy, bubbly girl I used to be. But thinking of that girl now hurt like a dagger to my stomach, mostly because that girl was dead and buried along with everyone she used to know and love.

The next house over looked better. The door was still on the hinges even if the window was smashed out. I shook my right arm, dislodging the knife from the holder and wiggling it until it sat comfortably in my hand.

From a side glance into the room, the front door opened straight into the living room, two once creamy leather sofas were now turned on their arses, and everything that the house used to contain was spread across the floor. I couldn't help but feel a sense of loss as I saw pages and covers of books, strewn onto the soiled carpet. Pages that were once my form of comfort. It wasn't practical to read any more, not unless it was something useful.

Stepping left foot first into the room, my whole body felt lit up with adrenaline. I could feel it pumping through each vein, sending tingles to my fingers and toes. My breath was loud in my ears, harsh and cold.

Strangely enough, there was no fear. Not any more. Not of anything. Well, nearly nothing.

My hand flew to my stomach at that thought and I risked a glance down. All I could see were the thick furs of the coat trim and the matted suede. But I knew what was underneath, and for that reason I took another step into the house.

The books were overlooked, the layer of grime on everything. I ignored the cupboard hanging off it's hinges, and the one cupboard that was closed. I completely blanked the sink that could potentially have that glorious water.

My body moved on instinct, born from fear and experience, listening to every creak in the floorboard as I ghosted over them.

Living room to the left, no doors. Kitchen adjoining to the right, no doors. A small corridor with four visible doors. Two open, one closed, one ajar.

My body was rigid as I approached the first door – one of the open ones. Hesitantly, I let my knife go first as I turned the doorframe. My heart sank as I saw what used to be a baby's room. A baby boy, from the pale blue walls and teddy bear boarder. The cot, the wardrobe, it was all layered in dust. My throat tightened when I saw the crusted blood stain smeared over the cot rails and onto the floor. A dried puddle where it's owner was once mauled. Now it was probably wondering around outside banging it's face against fucking wind chimes.

I stepped back, taking the door with me and closing it firmly.

"Nothing I need in there," I said to myself. It helped to clarify my thoughts to empty space, because once they were said then I knew they were permanent. It got hard to make clarifications in your mind when it's only you up in there. Damn, it had been a long time since I heard my own voice. My throat was scratchy.

The other two rooms revealed another bedroom which had been pretty much ransacked. I found a couple of batteries in the bedside tables and a few sets of clean underwear. The bras would be a bit big, but a lot comfier than the wreck bounding my ladies at the moment.

The closed door led to an adjoining garage. No car, a few scattered tools. No biters, though, so this would do for tonight.

Putting my rucksack by the overturned sofa, I started my preparations for the night.

It was secondary now. Check the windows – cover them. Cover one but leave it open. I wouldn't be able to rest if I didn't have more than one way out of a single building. That was a mistake I made not long into the apocalypse, and it was one I would definitely not be re-making. Live and learn, as they say.

By the time night had darkened the house, I sat on a bed of sofa cushions, picking half-heartedly at my last tin of tuna. Part of me was worried to eat it, because once I had something in my system then my belly would realise it was pretty damn empty and that would be when the cramps started. Plus, after my jackpot with an abandoned box of tuna in a shop about ten miles back, I was pretty sick of the fish. My mouth craved the tender touch of meat, or the sweet crunch of vegetables.

I used to be such a bad eater – sweets and chocolate and pop. That was my diet, and now I would give anything for a stem of broccoli.

I sighed heavily, looking into the tin. It was so quiet. There was the odd groan or hiss from outside, but other than that, the house was dead.

I bit the inside of my lip, centring my mind of the pain rather than the crushing loneliness that was suffocating me. It was becoming a physical ache now, this unbearable silence. It would close in until there was nothing but the pounding of my heart in my ears and the rush of faces long gone behind my eyes. Sleeping was usually the last thing I did, if I could help it. Most of the time, through the days, I would just keep walking until exhaustion forced me to sleep.

I curled my legs against my stomach, wincing and wiggling my hips to shift the coat until I was comfortable.

No fire tonight, no light. I could go through my supplies, I thought. I could try and find something to distract me – but the iPod I found had died a couple of weeks back, so there was no escape from the silence. I swallowed thickly, resting my cheek against my knees.

In the quiet, empty space, I tried to lose myself in the very few good memories I had. It didn't matter that eventually they tinted red.

I left just as light started to break in the sky, when the air was still chilled and you could almost imagine the world wasn't broken. I found that the biters were more sluggish in the early morning – probably half frozen from the night before or something.

I tucked the bottle of water I found in the garage after another search into my bag and slung it on my shoulders. I felt a hiss leave my lips as the weight pressed onto my tender muscles, but I had no choice. I would get used to it. I got used to everything, eventually.

The cul-de-sac led off to woodland at the north, and even though I didn't like the idea of trees obscuring my line of sight, they were the best cover – from biters and unkind eyes. I could run into another wild dog or two, but they went for the throat so I would take a rabid dog over a man with a gun any day. Not just that, but I could find a stream somewhere, maybe a shack or something useful. It would be good to stop for a few days.

The temperature dropped as soon as I stepped under the cover of the trees, and a shiver ran down my spine before I could tug the thick coat tighter around my body.

North was where I wanted to go. Not because there was actually anywhere to go, but because north was the direct opposite of the city, and fuck the cities.

Trudging through the leaves was not a great plan, I decided as I heard a rumbling moan somewhere in the distance. You couldn't step on the leaves because they crackled, and keeping low only kicked them up. So, really, going into the forest was a bad idea from the start.

I felt my body go rigid as I heard a rustle of leaves to my left. Flicking my wrist, my knife came free just as a rotting corpse dragged it's feet forward, swaying dangerously. I grimaced, seeing how it's face was shrivelled and grey, the skin around it's mouth near enough rotted away and leaving me seeing nothing but teeth and bone.

"You're an ugly bastard," I muttered, taking two quick strides forward and slamming my knife into it's forehead. The impact was laced with a fleshy thud, and maybe a year ago that would have made me gag. Now, though, I leaned forward with the momentum of it's fall and yanked out my blade. There was the splatter of something over my face, and the smell that accompanied it really did make me gag. Like coppery eggs.

I wiped the blade on the shambler's jumper, just as there was a distinctive click to my right.

My body froze, because I recognised a click like that.

"Drop ya knife."

My heart jumped into my throat, the distinctively male voice snapped taught and dripping with a seriousness that made my blood run cold.

My first instinct was to drop my knife, but that would leave me with nothing. Not that it really mattered, considering that click could only mean one thing. Yet I wanted to see who was about to either kill me, rob me, or… worse.

I would try and get at least a swipe in if that was going to happen.

Swallowing my fear, I chanced a glance to my right where the voice had come from. Surprisingly, I wasn't looking down the barrel of a gun. No, I was looking at a crossbow with an arrow pointed right at my head.

The figure holding it was arched, head dipped low to keep me in the sights. I frowned, because a lot of it didn't make sense in my mind. Then, in that moment, I saw the figure clearly. I saw it like the bolt knocked in the crossbow had just hit me. It was such an intense moment, because his blue eyes widened just as my hand tightened on the knife.

" _You_!"

He lowered his crossbow enough to see me with both eyes, his stubbled chin going slack as I bore my teeth, my shock sparking an anger so deeply rooted, so consuming, that my I felt like I could fly.

And with that fear, with my knife pointed right for his chest, I lunged.


	2. Then: The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I should mention that I own absolutely nothing Disney, that I'm using Disneyworld merely as a setting and take no credit.

"Smile!"

I widened my eyes and forced my lips to spread wider, watching with half-watering eyes as my mum tried to steady her hand to take the photo. Matt tightened his arms around me, squeezing to emphasise the way my mum pulled back to look at the camera as if it had caused a great insult to her very being.

My dad rushed forward, stepping away from Matt and tutting under his breath.

"Jesus, Jan. Just push the button."

"I pressed it!"

My mum pouted up to my dad, her cap shadowing her eyes. He sighed and took the camera away from her, raising an eyebrow and casting her an unimpressed look.

"You've put it on record."

"Well I didn't bloody know, did I?"

I felt Matt's body shift next to mine, and I couldn't help but chuckle along with him. Louise covered her mouth with her hands as my parents started their usual bickering, finally agreeing that he would take the picture. He ushered my mum forward and she linked one arm around my waist, pulling me tight and offering her best Middle Class smile.

The smile I aimed at the camera was genuine, just as there was a brief flash and the picture was finally done.

I sighed, untangling myself from my family and taking a breath. The air was so much thicker here, and the heat was relentless. I adjusted my cap and took another glance around.

It really was surreal being here.

I thought being in a city was crowded, but that hardly prepared me for the amount of bodies shifting around one place. The noise was something to be desired, too. Shouts and screams, music and laughter, arguments and Princesses were everywhere. Colour dotted every single wall, the smallest part of every ride splashed in detail. I didn't think I had been on a single ride that wasn't it's own story.

My favourite so far would definitely be the Space Mountain rollercoaster. Mostly because Louise had puked as soon as her feet had touched solid ground again.

Mum was ushering us away from the main Castle, urging us with the promise of food. I smiled as I watched her, because there was always something so frantic about my mother and the way she was. The woman wasn't happy unless she was moving.

At five foot four, with cropped mousy brown hair and kind blue eyes, my mum was a real ball of energy. I supposed she had to be, being a nurse for the past twenty years. She liked to tell me that there was no chance of her taking a break at work, so she learned to keep herself moving all the time. She joked that if she stopped for a moment, she would realise that she hated her job so she just kept going.

Which was a lie. My mum loved her job. She was perfect for it, too. There was something so comforting about her soft voice and kind eyes, so I could completely understand why her patients loved her. She was the complete opposite of my dad and I guessed that's why they worked so well. My dad was a proper Londoner, born and bred. He had the accent, the broad build and bald head to fit right in on the streets.

Funny that he was an accountant.

I couldn't think of anything more hilarious than watching my dad at his desk, wearing his geeky glasses and pouring over his accounts as Van Halen thundered from the speakers on the wall. He was an odd one, my dad – hell they both were. But they were alright.

"What do you want, Ali? Cheesecake or burgers?"

I turned to my mum and follow where she was pointing. The cheesecake she suggested was in the form of an old school diner, complete with chequered flooring and metal seats. The other was a burger bar and grill, the sign dancing around a cowboy hat. I let out a small laugh and shook my head, shrugging my shoulders.

"Maybe we should eat some actual food food."

"What's that supposed to mean?" chimed my big brother Matt, coming to stand next to me with his lovely blonde Louise under his arm.

"We've been living off ice cream and waffles since we arrived," I tried again, even though I wasn't strictly complaining. America had an abundance of sweet things, perfect for me really, but I had to admit that a stuffed cheeseburger would go down well. Especially after a morning of walking, queuing and riding.

"Michael? Burger or cheesecake?"

My dad hummed under his breath as he turned to face the question. I glance at what he was studying before, and took a sharp breath as I see an old style typewriter gleaming behind the glass. Surrounding it were original Mickey Mouse sketches, old writings and a signed picture of Walt Disney himself.

"I could eat a burger, actually," he said with a smile, and my mum took that as a solid answer. She didn't even ask Matt and Louise, but then again she was a bit pissed off at them since this morning.

As she flapped past, Matt turned to me and gave me an amused grin. I rolled my eyes but couldn't help respond.

Matt had inherited my mum's mousy brown hair and my dads brown eyes, but he certainly hadn't inherited mum's height. He towered over us all at six foot two, even taller than my dad now.

"You're not getting any pudding," I whispered to him as we turned to follow my mum. Matt chuckled as did Louise, before they shared one of those oh-so-in-love looks.

"I already had dessert."

Louise gasped and slapped his chest, breaking out in giggles that attracted my mum's harsh stare. Matt tried to stop his laughter but Louise genuinely blanched. Between feeling queasy at what my brother had suggested, and Louise's reaction, I ended up covering my eyes and shaking my head.

My mother had been in a hump since she caught Matt and Louise in the same bed this morning. He was like, twenty-four and yet my mum said she would only bring Louise if they promised to stay in separate rooms.

Louise was only here though because Dan, my younger brother, had refused to come. Apparently Disneyworld was too 'childish' for his fifteen-year-old mind, and had just point blank refused to come with us even though mum had already booked the holiday the year before. It had been a surprise for me, celebrating my acceptance into Uni. Not just that, but Dan was doing really well prepping for his GCSE's and Matt had just completed his degree – so I think really it was one last family holiday before Matt moved to Bristol for his new job and I moved to Birmingham for Uni. Mum was so upset, but happy that we were doing so well, she just didn't want to let us go.

Then Dan acted like the little shit he was, and broke her heart. I would have whooped his arse if he wasn't nearly a foot taller than me.

Yes, I inherited my mother's shortness. Five foot five, but a lot less energetic.

We moved together into the diner, joining yet another queue to be seated. It was so much cooler inside, which was ironic considering the massive open kitchen in the middle of the restaurant. Grills flashed with fire, meat was sizzling loudly on flat griddles and all I could smell was the beautiful scent of meat. I watched a far too happy waitress come to greet my dad, smiling so broadly it made my own cheeks ache. She was a full on bubbly American, her accent thick with a southern drawl. I'd seen enough TV shows to recoginse the accent.

"My name is Joanna, and I'll be ya'll server today," she beamed to my mum, who smiled politely in return. It was hard to get used to such happy servers – especially me, considering I'd had a job as a waitress in our local Wetherspoons for the past two years.

We were guided to a huge booth between countless others, and I smiled as I saw the little girl in the booth next to us. She was wearing a pair of Minnie Mouse ears and a Cinderella gown, waving a wand at her dad and singing 'Bibbity-bobbity-boo'.

Matt and my dad started to launch into narrating the menu excitedly while Louise pulled out her phone, tapping away. I saw my mum rake her eyes over the blonde and pull a none-too-friendly face. She jumped when she saw me watching, surprised she'd been caught but then she gave me a knowing smirk.

Mum didn't like Louise, she didn't think the girl was good enough for her baby boy. I didn't mind her too much, but she was one of those popular girls and her parents had paid for the name change on Dan's ticket. So, really, I kind of had to put up with her. Especially as she was sharing my room with me.

Joanna came bouncing back after a few minutes, gushing over the menu and pretty much reading the entire thing out to us. I already saw what I wanted – cheeseburger with fries and a Coke. Not too adventurous but Cowboy Sam's Belly Busting Cheese Filled Burger Surprise seemed too much of a risk to me.

So of course that's what Matt ordered. That boy was a bottomless pit.

Louise had a salad, of course. Mum ordered some kind of BBQ chicken dish and dad had the same as me. Dad started talking about where we wanted to go tomorrow and I felt a rush of excitement. Tomorrow we were going to Universal Studios and I couldn't wait. The Pirates of the Caribbean, Harry Potter, Indiana Jones… it was going to be awesome.

Somehow, as I was studying the multitude of people in the restaurant, dad and Matt started arguing about who was going to drive us to the Studios and I smiled to myself.

I turned my head and looked back at the little princess in the booth opposite me. She was munching thoughtfully on her fries, watching her mother with big blue eyes. Her dad was bent over, talking quietly to his wife, who was looking a little worse for wear. He had his arm around her back and was clearly rubbing it in comfort.

"You sure you're okay, honey? We can go back to the hotel."

The wife smiled, even though I could see how pale her face was from here. Her curly brown hair was sticking to her forehead, and even I could see that she should have been in bed.

"It just aches, that's all," she said slowly, her voice strained as her hand gently rubbed her other forearm. I saw a bandage there which I hadn't noticed before, and the little girl followed her mother's movements. I cocked my head as the woman let out a long breath, putting her cheek to her husbands shoulder and giving the little girl a small smile.

"Here we go!"

I jumped as Joanna materialised in front of us, four plates balanced on both arms. I hadn't even noticed the fresh Coke in front of me, shaking my head and glancing up just as Joanna put a plate in front of me. I gasped, because the burger in front of me was dripping with cheese and was bigger than my face. The chips were mounting over the burger, and I followed suit with my family and tucked right in.

I think I only glanced around once to see the mother on the table next to us coughing violently, before her husband gathered up his family and left.

"I can't go on it again, I can't!"

My words came out with a burst of laughter, my stomach fighting to keep my burger down. The ride had whipped all the air from my lungs and I could feel my cheeks burning from exhilaration. My dad was still laughing next to me, leaning down to rest on his knees and catch his breath. My mother looks a few different shades of green and Louise was flitting by Matt's side.

"See! That's exactly why I wouldn't come on!" she laughed, rubbing Matt's back as he doubled over the bin and hacked up his lunch.

My dad could hardly breathe through his laughter and my mother grabbed the rucksack from her shoulders, digging through to find the bottle of water I knew she carried around with her.

"I need to sit down," grumbled my brother after a few more minutes just as my mum was at his side, a hand on his back and generally pushing Louise out of the way to hand the water to him.

"You know you can't do rollercoasters," snapped my mum in the tone she used with particularly tricky patients. She ushered him towards the nearest bench, chastising him as he took slow sips from the water bottle. My dad was still trying to gather himself, finally standing straight and wiping a genuine tear from his eyes.

"Ah, shit, Matt. Don't do that to me, I'll laugh myself into a stroke." My dad chuckled again as Matt threw him a glare, still sipping his water as my mother continued to natter at him, digging into her bag again for something to cure all.

I was still smiling as I hovered next to the bench, letting out a surprised gasp as my dad muttered a comment about needing a gag and I swiped a hand at his shoulder, trying to stifle my giggles. My mum sent him a glare and dad instantly sobered up, raising his hands in defence even though I could see he was trying to hide a smirk.

"Come on Ali, let's go and have another go while Princess has a much needed break."

I clamped my mouth shut to stop myself laughing under my mother's scrutiny. Matt let out a weak chuckle, but he was still pale as a sheet so I knew he wouldn't be up for another round any time soon. Louise was sitting on his other side, smiling softly under her sunglasses.

I nodded at my dad and the two of us raced off towards the rollercoaster queue again.

It was just after midday and the sun was beating down on us, making my hair stick of the back of my neck. I sighed and unhooked the hair band from my wrist, tying my black hair in a lose bun as I moved with the crowd. There wasn't much for me to see at my height, just a throng of people in every direction, all of us shambling closer to our destination. My dad leaned against the bannister, letting out a yawn.

"Did you remember to pack your laptop?" he asked suddenly, and I turned to him with a frown.

"No I thought I'd leave the laptop and just pack my knickers."

Dad gave me an unimpressed look and I snickered under my breath.

"Yes I have my laptop. What do you think kept me going on that nine hour flight?"

He nodded and glanced at his watch.

"You okay? Do you need my laptop?"

He turned his face towards mine, looking almost shy at being called out. His soft brown eyes were hidden under his sunglasses but I knew a look of guilt when I saw it.

"What?"

"I just want to check the footy scores."

"Dad."

"What?" he asked incredulously, feigning an innocence I recognised off the bat.

With mock surprise in my voice, I turned to him. "You're working!"

"I am not!" he snapped, but the corners of his lips were tugged upwards and I couldn't stop a disapproving shake of my head, even though I was fighting my own smile.

"Mum will kill you if she finds out you're working."

"She doesn't necessarily have to find out, does she, Alice?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but then he was grinning and I shook my head. He was asking me not to tell, and I let out a sigh. Just as I turned to give him a smart reply, there was a shout from the queue behind us.

I turned along with most of everyone else, trying to see what the scream was about. My dad had stood to attention, and I was quick to remember he had been in the army when he was younger.

"What's happened?" I asked, standing next to his bigger frame and trying to lift myself onto my toes. I couldn't see my dad's eyes as more commotion started down the queue. There were shouts and a sudden air of urgency, just before another scream.

"Dad?"

His lips were pressed together but I couldn't see through the amount of bodies that were pressing forward, trying to get a glimpse.

"Someone fainted," he said finally, craning his neck. I couldn't read much from his blank face but he was wearing a similar expression to when I brought my first boyfriend home.

"Are they alright?"

As the words left my lips, I saw people rushing from the sides of the bannisters, and let out a grunt as a man barged past me and knocking me into my dad.

"I'm a doctor!" called the man, his voice heavily accented. He was swallowed up in the multitude of people and I was still fighting to see what was happening.

"If everyone can please come this way!"

I turned to the front of the queue, seeing a woman wearing a Disney Staff top urging people to come towards her. I frowned and looked at dad, but he was still wearing that stony expression even as he turned to follow the queue towards the woman. She was moving people into the ride and as we got closer, I saw people being directed through an 'Exit' door inside the ride. People were asking what was wrong and she was gushing about someone collapsing and needing to clear the queue so their medical staff could access them.

I followed them blindly, glancing back at one point where the queue had thinned. All I could see were different crouching bodies, shielding the fainted person from my view. I let myself be moved with the line and amongst the shoving and muttering, I let my hand slip into my dads. He might have looked at me, but he didn't say anything until we'd gone down the steps and came out the other side of the ride.

Nothing was different as we stepped back into the main theme park, even though we were a little turned around. I wasn't sure how to get back to the front of the ride as mum had the map, but dad didn't seem too concerned. Instead he tugged me towards an ice cream van, decked out in silver trim with a small line.

I knew he was trying to shrug off whatever had happened in the queue so I followed, picking a vanilla ice cream as my dad chose chocolate.

We started walking slowly along, eating our ice creams but not really talking. I turned to him, noticing him check his watch again.

"We should find your mum, it's getting late."

I frowned, because I knew from my own watch that it was only half past three. Still, I didn't question it. I followed dad slowly, licking half-heartedly at my ice cream as we passed other rides and screaming kids. I saw some kind of hula shack to our right with bamboo gates tucked around the back. I barely glanced it over but something tingled at the back of my neck, and I craned my head to look again at the gate.

"Oh my God, dad!"

I put my hand to my mouth as I saw what was definitely a woman sprawled on the floor by the gates. I could see why no one had noticed her yet. The shack was closed, and the gate was tucked right behind it. I only glanced at it, but I could definitely see someone on the floor.

"Shit," said my dad, shoving his ice cream into my hands as he started jogging over. I leapt to follow, holding both cones as my dad skidded to a halt on his knees.

"Hello, miss? Hello can you hear me?"

Dad shook the woman's body, and now I was closer I could see she was tanned skinned, with long black hair. She wore the traditional hula girl skirts and coconuts, with the flower necklace sprawled up her neck.

"Alice!" snapped my dad, jumping my attention form the woman to the hard look on my dad's face. "Alice go and find someone who works here!"

I opened my mouth but my body was frozen, my eyes bulging from my face. My heart was pumping loudly and my dad had already turned back to the woman. He had two fingers under her chin as he used his other to gently tap her cheek. I could see he was trying to rouse her.

"Alice!" he snapped again and I jumped, my eyes going to the woman again even as my dad was trying to keep himself calm.

"Dad she's awake," I said quickly, letting out a relieved breath as the woman's eyes flew open. My dad's face creased into a frown as he glanced down.

"Miss are you-"

My dad's words were cut short as the woman's body moved. My jaw dropped into a wordless scream as I watched the woman reach out and her teeth sink into my dad's arm.


	3. Now

I heard the tell tale click but it was secondary in my mind as my vision narrowed on the still figure in front of me. Two things happened at once and I wasn't sure which one hit me harder. The force that slammed into my side, throwing me off track or the white hot pain that seared through my thigh as I heard a fleshy thud.

My scream was swallowed as the force of my body collided with the ground.

As soon as I realised I was still, I let out a hearty cry, my hands flying to my left leg.

" _Fuck_!"

My moan was drowned out by something hovering in my peripheral vision, something very distinctive and yet it didn't hold my focus. It certainly didn't turn my blood into ice like it used to.

"What the hell was that?" demanded another voice, and as I struggled to get my pain under control, I felt a sharp jolt in my wrist as my knife was kicked away.

I gasped for air as my hands fumbled around the bolt jutting out my thigh. I forced my head up, groaning as I saw what I felt. The bolt was at the top of my thigh and I could feel the head grating against the bone. The pain was still white hot, burning down to my toes. Blood was staining my dirty jeans black and I could already feel blood crusting on my hands.

I didn't get a reprieve as someone materialized in front of me and grabbed my arms, hauling me into a sitting position. I wasn't sure but it felt like someone else was behind me, shoving my arms up my back at an awkward angle. I cried out again, my eyes blurring with pained tears.

"Who are you?" demanded the same voice, and I finally looked up at my assailants.

A man was crouching before me, his face covered in a light fur, his hair wet and sticking against his forehead. Someone was standing to his side, a younger looking man who had Asian features and a wary expression. The bearded man was covering my vision of the figure I wanted to hiss at, and for that they were lucky. I would spit fire if I saw him again.

"Let me go!" I roared, my throat tight from disuse. My heart was hammering against my ribs and I wasn't sure if it was from the pain or from the fact that someone else had an iron grip on my arms. I tried to move my legs to lash out but my arms were lifted higher and I yelped at the strain on my shoulders.

"Who are you?" demanded the man again, his pale blue eyes flitting from side to side like he was expecting a bunch of people to jump out from the trees.

"Let me go," I said again, this time my voice a little meeker as the reality of my situation dawned on me.

"Where are the rest of you? Who are you with?" he demanded, his voice laced with a steel that forced fear into my gut.

I shook my body from side to side but the grip was firm. Someone was breathing harshly into my ear, but I saw a flash of the younger Asian man, and he was pointing a handgun right at me.

"Answer me!"

I let out a gasp as the person behind me adjusted his grip and jostled my leg. A fresh wave of pain seared down my thigh and I felt a panicked wiggle in my stomach.

"I won't ask you again," he hissed.

"I'm not with anyone!" I snapped, glancing behind to briefly see the face of the man holding me. I felt panic start to build in my chest as I realised that there were only men around me. That hysteria I usually kept so contained was bubbling in my throat and my struggle started in earnest.

"Shit!" barked a deep voice in my ear as hands fumbled to keep hold of my arms. There was an iron grip on my wrist but my harsh breathing betrayed my fear and I tried to suck in air even though my throat was threatening to close.

"Please," I choked, my eyes flitting up to the man. He was watching me steadily, but his eyebrows creased as he noticed the shift in my erratic behaviour. "I'm not with anyone, please just let me go, please I'm sorry."

"Rick, she's bleeding out," piped up the Asian guy to the side, lowering his gun slightly.

The bearded man glanced at the Asian guy and I wasn't sure if I saw his expression soften as he turned back, finally noticing the bolt embedded in my thigh.

"Where's the bolt?"

My entire body went rigid as that husky voice broke through the silence. I narrowed my eyes as that fucking figure hovered just to the side of the bearded man. He still had his crossbow in hand but it was lowered, and his face still seemed slack as his body stood rigid by the tree.

I couldn't contain the red that filled my vision.

"You! I'll fucking kill you, you redneck prick!" I was screeching, fighting tooth and nail against the man holding me. He wasn't expecting my sudden burst of energy, and my outrage had the rest of them startled to attention. The bearded man jumped back in time to avoid a kick from my good leg. The younger Asian man muttered a curse and raised his gun again.

I couldn't even understand what I was saying, I just felt so much anger in every vein, the need to scratch and claw and bite overwhelming me.

"Hey!"

My words were cut short as a rough, strong hand grabbed my jaw, and I was forced to focus on the bearded man again. I could see confusion written all over his face, but he seemed determined to get answers from me.

"You said you're alone?" he demanded. When I glanced behind him to see the figure watching me, I bore my teeth. Just as I tried to struggle again, beardy yanked my jaw down and my eyes flew back to his face.

"Are you alone?"

Through ground teeth I managed to bite out, "yes."

"Do you have a camp? A group? Hey, _answer_ me."

I turned my eyes back to him again, my anger concealing a rush of dizziness and the spreading of numbness down my entire left side.

"No!" I yelled, trying to struggle again. There was a grunt behind me, but my body hardly jolted him. Either he'd got a better grip, or the position was wreaking havoc on my strength.

"We should take her back to Her-"

"No!" snapped beardy, turning back to the kid. That one word snapped my body to attention and I felt that familiar pull of authority, my body instinctively rushing to respond.

"I don't have a fucking group, I'm on my fucking own and thanks to dickface over there, I have a bolt in my leg!"

There was a harsh rush of breath in my ear, but I had stopped trying to struggle. He didn't relent his grip though and I felt a tingling in my hands as the blood flow decreased.

"Hey, you jumped at me!" snapped the figure, his body coming free from the rigid surprise it had been frozen in. He pointed an accusatory finger at me, but as soon as my eyes met his, any kind of flustered response vaporized from his expression. He shrunk back to the tree and his face went slack again.

"Do you have more weapons?" asked bearded face. My body was racking with harsh breaths as the pain was spreading to my brain, causing the next wave of dizziness to actually force my eyes closed.

"Hey."

I felt a tap to my cheek and my eyes flashed open, narrowing back onto the man again. Now he was less confused, his soft eyes wider. I felt a stab of pain my stomach as those eyes reminded me of someone long since gone, and I bit back a small sob.

I was stuck, again. I had vowed to never become a caged animal once I broke my chains, and now I was completely at the mercy of these strangers.

Nausea rushed from my gut and I felt my mouth water.

"No, I don't have any more weapons," I said quietly, defeated. The man muttered a curse and got to his feet. Standing tall, I got my first real look at him. He had a matted jacket and straight laced trousers, his belt visible in the opening of his coat, and I saw the gun holder sitting snugly against his hip. He brought one hand to his head, shoving back his hair in a torn kind of gesture.

"Just let me go," I tried again, my voice so annoyingly small that the grip on my arms relaxed ever so slightly. I let out a breath as the sharp pain rushed down my arms, my fingers now well and truly numb.

"Come on, she's just a kid!" tried the Asian guy again, and I tried to send him a thankful glance but he was looking at the bearded man.

"Doesn't mean she's telling the truth," said the beardy, almost regretfully. I let out a rush of breath and lowered my head, my eyes going to the bolt again and noticing how much the glistening black stain had travelled.

"You're just gonna let her bleed out?" rumbled the voice in my ear, and I frowned, drawing my eyes together and letting them shut.

"Can't just let her die."

My body went rigid again at that husky drawl. I felt my jaw set but I didn't have the strength to fight against the hold.

"Damn it!" cursed the bearded man, and I heard a clipped movement, my eyes rushing upwards to see the man draw his weapon. My body instinctively pressed away from the gun and against the man holding me.

"Rick!" snapped the man in my ear, just as the Asian guy's eyes went wide. Even that figure had taken a hesitant step forward.

They didn't move, though, even as the bearded man closed the few steps towards me. I opened my mouth to beg but he was going too fast, too intent on what he was doing. I barely managed to let out a yelp before he had descended upon me. There was a fork of pain as the gun collided with the back of my head, and my world went black.

* * *

"The hell, Rick?" barked Tyreese as he felt the girl go limp in his hold. The hit from the butt of the gun had resounded in his ears, and it was all he could do not to feel bad for the kid.

Rick moved away from her, one hand rubbing his chin as he holstered his gun. No one spoke, even as Tyreese lay the unconscious girl on the ground. Everyone watched their former leader for an order, because none of them knew what to do.

Her appearance was a surprise, but not necessarily a threat, and everyone kept a wary eye on the bolt in her leg.

Daryl moved to shift his crossbow back over his shoulder, his eyes studying the girl as she breathed evenly. He hadn't moved from near the tree, almost as if he moved she'd jump at him again. Seeing her face was like looking at a ghost, and she obviously remembered him.

"You know this girl?"

Daryl felt his body jerk in surprise, keeping his expression blank as all eyes turned to him. Rick was studying him, his face open, waiting for an answer. Daryl ground his teeth, forcing his body not to shift uncomfortably under his friends' eyes.

"Naw."

"She sure seemed to know you," said Tyreese suggestively, and Daryl narrowed his eyes.

"I don't know her," he tried a little more forcefully. "Girl's all messed up."

Rick held his eyes for moment before nodding, taking his friend's words as true. Daryl had to swallow back his tongue as the former cop moved towards the little thing's sprawled body.

"Can't imagine a kid like that on her own out here," muttered Rick under his breath. Glenn had tucked his gun in the back of his pants, moving forward to check her leg. Another pang of guilt hit him then, but he still refused to move from the tree. Wasn't nothin' he could do if some girl decided to jump at him. Was lucky for her he wasn't pointing it at her head.

"She's bleeding pretty bad," said Glenn, prodding the skin around the entrance wound.

Rick paced back and forth for a moment, glancing up at Daryl once more before kneeling down next to her. The girl's face was shadowed from his view, and Daryl felt the grip of shock loosen enough for him to relax his shoulders.

"We'll check her for weapons, then take her back to the prison. Hershel can take out the bolt, bandage her up, and we'll drop her back. I'm not risking our home for the sake of some kid."

Glenn nodded at his friend, turning the girl once again. Her face had gone a deathly pale, her breathing slow. He could see her short black hair sticking up in all directions, but she definitely wasn't from around here. Her accent said as much.

"Check her for weapons. We need to get moving."

Daryl glanced in the direction Rick was nodding to see three walkers trying to limp their way through the trees.

"I got it," he muttered, wanting nothing more than to get away from them all. He knew there would be more questions once the kid was in the hands of Hershel, but for now he'd just have to keep quiet.

Keeping back at least ten feet, Daryl took all three down with his crossbow. He still didn't feel very steady, so he decided to take the easy way. As he bent down to yank his bolt from the head of the first walker, his body snapped taught at a shout from the left.

It sounded like Glenn, but Daryl had already cocked another bolt, moving effortlessly through the undergrowth to peer back into the small space they'd found the girl in.

Daryl frowned when he saw all three of them crouching around her, Rick letting out a frustrated grunt before getting back to his feet. He wandered over to Daryl slowly, both hands on his hips as he brushed his coat aside.

Daryl was given full view at what had caused alarm, and his eyes widened.

The girl's jacket had been undone, no doubt to check for concealed weapons, but Glenn had stopped as soon as they noticed what was underneath.

"Damn it," muttered Rick at his side, turning his body and kicking up a little dirt. Tyreese got to his feet and swung his baseball bat over one shoulder, looking down at her. Glenn was still crouching, his face slack in surprise.

"How… how far do you think she is?"

Tyreese shrugged and Daryl stayed silent. He ran his bottom teeth against his top set, fingers itching for a cigarette. Rick finally turned to face her, letting out a huge sigh.

"I don't know."

"We can't just… patch her up and throw her back out," protested Glenn, still studying her sleeping frame.

"If she was telling the truth about bein' alone, then I'll ask her the questions. For now, we take her back and get that leg looked at. As long as she doesn't attack any more of us," Rick shot Daryl a glance and the hunter held his gaze steadily. "Then we'll take it from there."

Daryl nodded once, slinging his crossbow back over his shoulder and starting towards the girl.

"I'll carry her," said Tyreese, stopping Daryl in his tracks. The broad giant looked Daryl over once, a questioning look but not necessarily a harsh one. Daryl made some kind of motion with his shoulders that could have been taken for a shrug before moving up beside Rick.

"That girl was hell bent on you," offered Rick thoughtfully as Tyreese scooped the girl up into his arms. Daryl couldn't help but fix his eyes on the big bump jutting out from her stomach. He ground his teeth as Tyreese started forward. Daryl made a move to walk but a hand touched his chest and the hunter watched as Rick moved in front of him. There was only concern on the man's face, yet it set Daryl on edge.

"You sure you don't know her?"

Daryl parted his lips to reply instantly, but Rick's expression cut him short. He wasn't just looking at a friend, but a cop and a good man. A good man who knew a liar when he saw one. Daryl snapped his mouth shut, trying to think of ways to explain.

He never got the chance as Glenn rushed over to them, one hand carrying the girl's backpack, the other holding her knife.

"There's walkers by the car, Tyreese is holding back with the girl. We gotta get her to Hershel soon, especially in her condition."

Rick nodded at Glenn, pulling out his own knife. Daryl didn't miss the pressing look Rick sent over his shoulder, telling him all too clear that this discussion was not over. Daryl let the man go ahead, falling back with his crossbow held high.

Well, fuck.


	4. Then

"This way, hold his arms up!"

I felt my feet tangle around each other, and I had to lean on my dad to keep them going. The man around his other side was pushing us forward, and the second I took to look around had me stumbling all over again. I could feel blood on my hands but I pushed it away, holding the soaked t-shirt tighter around my dad's arm.

He was an eerie shade of grey, and I had never seen his face so slack from shock.

I followed the staff member through hallways I didn't recognise, into buildings until we finally stopped in some kind of medical bay. It looked like a normal doctor's practice except for the pictures of Minnie and Daisy in nurse's outfits on the wall.

"I'll go and get the nurse, just wait here. Have a seat."

The young staff member nodded at me even though he looked terrified out of his wits. I pushed my dad down gently onto the bed, sitting next to him and trying not to look at the t-shirt.

"Dad?" My voice was tiny in the empty room, but even so, it didn't rouse him.

I worried the inside of my mouth, biting down to keep my mind focused.

The woman had bit him. I saw it. She just… I think it had been my scream that drew the attention, but I couldn't be sure because I could hardly remember anything but seeing someone else's teeth sinking into my dad's arm. And the blood.

I sucked in a sharp breath as I felt the tightening of my chest, the sudden erratic pace of my heart dance in my chest. My body was trembling, my breathing laboured as I fought to control myself.

Somehow, it seemed to bring my dad out of whatever shock he was in, because I suddenly felt a strong hand on the top of my back and heard my name whispered gently. I glanced up, seeing my dad's brown eyes focused on me, and it did nothing to stop the panic but it was like opening a floodgate. The sob broke free and as I battled to keep myself from screaming again, my dad wound his arm around me and brought me to his chest.

He smelled just like my dad had always smelled. Like cologne, shaving cream and warmth. It brought back memories of falling asleep curled next to him when I'd forced him to watch a kid's film. Or running into his arms when he'd come home from business trips, sitting on his lap as he showed me all the presents he'd picked up from where he went. The way he'd hugged me when my first boyfriend dumped me. I felt my breathing slowly start to calm down, even though my face and his t-shirt were damp with tears.

"It's OK, it's alright," he cooed in my ear, even though I didn't quite believe him.

I pulled away and looked into his face, seeing the mess his arm was. Blood all over him, staining the t-shirt red, sticking to his hands. I knew it was on my hands as well, but I couldn't think about that yet.

"Oh my god, Michael!"

We both turned quickly to see my mother bursting through the door, her face set as she swooped onto my dad and pulled him into her arms. The hug was brief because she had noticed his arm and all the blood. Without a word, my mum pulled back the t-shirt and gasped at the mess of flesh underneath.

"What the hell happened? There was an announcement, we heard your name and someone showed us where the medical bay was," she said quickly, looking right into my dad's face. My dad opened his mouth to reply, but I somehow cut in.

"She bit him."

My mum suddenly seemed to notice me there, her face breaking from strong nurse to concerned mother and she reached out to grab me.

"Oh honey," she said softly as a fresh wave of tears came over me. I took deep breaths to calm myself down just as I saw Matthew coming through the doorway, Louise hovering by the door. She looked terrified, and I didn't blame her. There was just so much blood.

"It's alright honey, he's fine. Come on, it's okay. Here, Matt, take your sister to the bathroom and help her get cleaned up."

I could hear the tremor in my mum's voice, but she had put back on her mask of professionalism, gently cupping my cheek before turning back to my dad. I looked up, my eyes feeling puffy from the tears already just as Matt held out his hand to me.

I felt six years old again, taking his hand and letting him pull me off the bed and lead me out of the room. Louise gasped as I came closer, but her face evened out as I walked past.

Matt didn't say a word, his face set in stone as we wondered down the hallway, opening random doors until we came to a bathroom. Matt led me inside, my sobs now little sniffles. I let him move me around until we stood at the sink. He turned on the water and I made the mistake of glancing up, coming face to face with my reflection in the big mirror.

I gasped and fought for breath as that tightness gripped my throat again. The panic was like a physical fist wrapping around my lungs and squeezing so hard I felt dizzy.

There was blood smeared on my face where I must have brushed hair from my forehead whilst holding my dad's arm.

"Alice, hey," said Matt quickly, grabbing my shoulders and turning my back to the mirror.

He grabbed my face in both hands, looking right into my eyes. My breath was hard won, sucking it in as if my body couldn't get enough. He forced me to look into my eyes, counting one, two, three and breathing in and out with each count. I let his face fill my vision as I copied him, breathing in and out.

It took a few moments, but I felt my lungs relax, my airways start to clear. As he saw me slowly calming down, he took one of my hands and I felt lukewarm water rushing over my skin. He kept saying my name, keeping my eyes on his as he washed the first hand, then the second.

Then his hand came up to my face, and water sloshed over my cheek quickly followed by his palm as he washed away the blood.

By the time he was finished, I could breathe normally. Matt lowered his head and looked into my eyes.

"You okay?"

I sniffed and nodded, wiping my nose on my forearm as I let out a long breath.

"Yeah I'm okay now. Thanks."

I tried a small smile and he lifted his lips in return. I knew he wanted to ask what happened, but he seemed just as shocked as I was.

"Come on, let's see how dad is."

I nodded, stepping away from the sink and following him out of the bathroom. Matt hadn't seen one of my panic attacks in years, I had it under control now. He'd been the first to see one when I was thirteen. My friend had fallen off our swing and he had been looking after me. She broke her arm and as she was crying, I was sat there staring at her arm bending at an unnatural angle. I think his reaction to me, forcing me to focus, was mostly because he didn't want to get into trouble. He'd called my mum but he'd calmed me down by the time she got there and Katie had been taken to hospital.

Now it was surreal, having him calm me down like that. Sure, it's fine when you're kids but I was an adult now. Panic attacks were so rare. Strange that the first one I'd had all year had been here, and it had been Matt to calm me down.

I walked close to Matt as we found the treatment room again.

When I looked up, there was still no stranger in the room. Instead dad was lying back on the bed, Louise holding his good hand while mum bent over his other side. She looked so focused on what she was doing, and I saw the little bowl on dad's stomach filled with bandages and sutures.

"Mum?" asked Matt slowly, walking right up to Louise and leaning over.

"I'm not waiting for some bloody nurse while my husband is bleeding. I'm fully qualified so if they've got something to say to me then they can eat my boot."

That got a chuckle from my dad before he winced, whatever mum was doing looked like it hurt.

"The skin needs to be stitched down," she said after a few minutes of prodding. I hovered by the doorway, still unable to see that gaping hole in his arm again.

"I'm not going to the hospital," said my dad suddenly, and my mum snapped up her head. Her blue eyes focused so intensely on my dad that he visibly shrunk back into the bed.

"Okay I'll go to the hospital."

Matt let out a snort and pulled Louise close. She looked just how I felt, stricken and pale, but she was still holding my dad's hand and for that I was thankful. The girl was dippy, but she had a good heart.

"Alice I need you to hold this for me."

I started, my eyes looking over to my mum. She was watching me steadily, holding a gauze over my dad's arm. I let out a long breath and nodded, walking quickly to her side. The bed was splattered with blood, and mum's fingers were red. But if she could carry on, I could too.

I took my dad's arm and held the gauze as my mum instructed while she unravelled a roll of bandage. I helped as best I could until my dad's arm was completely bound. Finally I looked up to see my dad with his eyes closed.

I felt a burst of panic and must have made some kind of noise because his eyes flew open and landed on me. I let out a short breath and he smiled, a sheen on sweat on his face before brushing my cheek with his hand.

"Mum, come look at this."

I turned to Matt who was stood at a window, frowning as he looked out. Louise turned to him too, craning her neck to see. My mum was putting back the things she'd got out and another call from my brother had her huffing and moving to follow.

"I'm not really interested in the rides- oh."

I frowned as my mum cut herself off, looking out of the window. Patting my dad's hand I moved around the bed just as Louise got to her feet. We both moved to the window, me stepping between my brother and mother to see out. And then I could see why Matt's eyes were wide.

We were high up enough to see a lot of the park spread before us. Rides and walkways, big platforms and gazebos.

There was a crowd gathered around one stage, the people moving and rushing around in some great panic. I could hear the shouts from up here, and something was definitely happening. It was hard to see anything concrete, until a piercing screech came from the middle of the crowd.

People started to push in earnest, shoving and trying to break away. I couldn't see what was happening in the middle, there were too many bodies around one thing.

I knew we were all watching the same thing, the centre of the crowd. People seemed to bend over something, frantically grabbing and pulling.

"What do you think-"

Louise was cut short as my eyes widened.

One of the people had turned around. And his face was covered in blood.

I saw Louise's hand fly to her mouth, heard my mother's gasp, heard Matt let out a strangled noise. I couldn't take my eyes away.

The man got to his feet, covered in blood as he jumped on another person and tackled her to the ground. I heard her throaty scream even as I turned away from the window and put my back to the wall. My chest tightened as I heard my mother's shocked words.

"Oh my God."

"What the fuck is going on?" raged Matt, turning to Louise and pulling her away from the window. She was making small, horrified sounds. I kept my eyes closed, the image of the man's face burned behind my eyes.

"What's happening?"

We all looked at my dad, who was pushing himself into a sitting position. My mum didn't speak, instead rushing over to her rucksack and pulling it onto her shoulders. We were all dumbstruck even as mum put her hands on my dad's body, pulling his legs off the bed.

"We have to go, now, back to the car."

"What's going on, Jan?" he demanded, but mum just kept moving him to stand. Matt jumped forward, going to my dad's other side and helping him stand.

"Jan?"

"Michael just shut up and get up," she snapped, and I watched his eyes go wide. I don't think I'd ever heard my mum tell anyone to shut up.

We all scrambled to follow, Louise standing by my side as mum and Matt helped my dad out of the medical centre. We moved blindly down the corridor and towards a lift. I reached around my mum and pushed the button, all five of us breathing heavily as we waited for the lift to arrive. There was a small ping before the doors slid open, and Louise screamed.

"Jesus!" yelped my dad, stepping back and knocking into me. I sucked in a harsh breath as the inside of the lift blazed in front of my eyes.

The entire box was painted red.

Smeared over the walls, over the floor. Spatters and pools of it, everywhere. It was like a scene from a horror film. I felt my legs turn to stone, even as my dad unhooked his arms from around Mum and Matt.

"Get to the stairs, now," said his firm voice, grabbing mum by the arm and shoving her forward. Matt's horrified face was still staring at the lift, and I somehow managed to grasp his arm and pull him along as dad started forcing us to move.

I couldn't even panic as mum shoved through the emergency stair exit. I couldn't even think as I took two steps at a time. Dad was behind us, moving us forward.

We burst from the building into the piercing sunlight, but it didn't seem beautiful anymore. I couldn't glance around, because dad continued to bark at us, keeping us moving. I had no idea where we were going, I just followed my family as we moved as one.

"This way," said my dad, taking mum's hand and pulling her along. There was only the need to flee in my veins, I couldn't even look back to make sure Matt and Louise were still following.

The further we went, the more people we saw heading in the same direction. It became a mass of us heading towards the exits, some people panicked but most of them just confused. There were voices humming over speakers, incredibly cheery for what we'd just witnessed.

"Please stay calm, this is an emergency broadcast. Please make your way calmly to the exits."

"Alice, Matt, Louise – come here."

Dad grabbed my shoulder and pulled me close, reaching around me to grab Matt and yank him behind me. We formed a small circle of bodies as we got closer to the exits.

Only when we were nearly out did I see the figures standing at the gates.

Tall, intimidating men wearing all black, holding weapons I had only ever seen on TV. There were vans and cars and trucks outside, ambulances flashing next to riot vans. The men and women were lined all along the entrance, stopping people as they tried to get out. There was a man with a megaphone, his voice deep as he echoed the same words as the broadcast.

"Please stay calm and approach the turnstiles one at a time. We will assist you. Please stay calm and approach the turnstiles one at a time."

I swallowed thickly, looking up at my dad. His jaw was set even though I could see sweat dripping from his forehead.

We moved together to the closest turnstile. There were the same SWAT kind of people on the inside, all holding guns and ushering people quickly through the turnstiles one at a time. Mum held on to dad but he nodded at her, urging her forward as she was waved to the turnstile.

Mum looked back at us but went through, stopping at the other end and raising her hand to another police person.

He gave her a nod and she moved off, but by that time Matt had been moved forward. I pushed Louise to go next because she looked like she was about to faint. I moved to urge dad forward but he shook his head.

"Go on, bubs."

My lower lip trembled at the old endearment, but he just smiled weakly and nodded me forward. I stepped past the man and noticed his eyes watching me warily from under his mask. I frowned but pushed through the turnstile and stopped at the other end. The woman who was there stepped right into my personal space.

"Please raise your arms," she said, her voice clipped.

I opened my arms to ask why but she was already raising my arms for me. She didn't pat me down, instead just seemed to look me over. When she nodded at me and gestured towards my family, I ran into my mum's arms. We stood there watching as my dad walked slowly through the turnstile.

He got to the woman at the other end, but I noticed the shift as soon as he raised his arms.

She called out a name and other people came running forward. They were talking quickly to my dad, who's face was turning red as he demanded to know what was going on.

"Sir, if you could come this way," tried another one of the men.

"I want to know why!" shouted my dad, just as I felt mum take a step forward.

"Dad!" cried Matt, pushing past me.

I stood with wide eyes as the men jumped on my dad and wrestled him to the floor. Mum cried out and I moved forward, only to run smack into more armoured, faceless people. We were all being held back. I sucked in a breath as my family called out, fighting against the hold of these people.

"Dad!" I screamed, watching as they hauled my dad to his feet. He barely managed to throw us a glance as four men held his arms behind his back and dragged him away.


	5. Now

Waking up felt like surfacing from a pool, piercing the breach with a harsh breath and a sudden realisation. I opened my eyes quickly, before my body could catch up with my brain and for that everything was blurry.

I took another deep breath, squeezing my eyes shut as I battled a sudden wave of nausea. With my eyes closed and body still, a few things became clear.

The first was that I was on some kind of squidgy mattress, hardly thick enough to cushion the hard surface it rested on. Second, there was a scratchy blanket rubbing over my arm. I was warm, kind of comfortable.

Third – my hand was handcuffed to the frame.

I opened my eyes again as I yanked my hand. Glancing up I could see I was secured with handcuffs, and whatever bed I lay in was either on the floor or part of a bunk bed. The wall I was facing was grey, smooth, and cold against my knees.

I frowned at my cuffed hand, shaking it again and causing the metal to clank against the frame.

That was when I heard a rustle behind me and I craned my neck so quickly it hurt. What I was facing though didn't make sense, and my mouth opened to speak yet I couldn't find the words. I was in some kind of cell, I could tell that much from the bars in the doorway and the complete lack of space in the tiny box.

But that wasn't what had me completely dumbfounded.

I managed to shift my body into a sitting position, and the gun aimed at my head was raised slightly higher. I felt my jaw hanging open, but I still couldn't quite take in what was in front of me.

There, against a wall, was a kid.

His face was slightly obscured by the rounded hat he wore, but his pale face was set and dark hair dusted into his eyes. He was watching me warily, both hands on his gun. I couldn't take it in, because this kid couldn't have been that old and yet he held himself like he was ready for anything.

"Aren't you a bit young to be waving that around?" I asked slowly, my throat raw as my words scraped by.

The kid didn't even flinch, his gun steady and body relaxed. I couldn't get past the image of the little thing in front of me. I hadn't seen a kid in… I couldn't even remember.

"Dad!" he called suddenly, his voice hardened yet soft, young.

There was commotion from outside before a figure charged around the door, hanging inside, his face right at the kid. I sucked in a sharp breath as I recognised beardy, just before he turned those hard eyes on me.

"You let your kid have a gun?" I asked suddenly, seeming to throw him off balance. There were more footsteps outside and I saw shadows hovering by the door. I couldn't see the faces they belonged to, but I could hear quiet murmurs.

I flinched as beardy took a step closer, shrinking back. His blue eyes looked me over, but he stopped his advance and hovered by me. His face was hidden by the top bunk and I pulled my legs up.

It was only then that I felt the first stabbing pain in my thigh, and I remembered.

My jaw set as the man leaned down, eerily similar to how he'd been when he ambushed me.

"Out, Carl," he ordered, a tone he'd used with me when he demanded my attention. The kid lowered his weapon and took a step forward.

"I wanna be here-"

"Out."

The kid stared at the back of his dad's head for a moment, casting me a dark look before sighing in frustration and storming from the cell. I watched him go, still unsure as to why in God's name he was holding a gun.

"Hey," he said softly, drawing my attention away from the kid and back to him. Everything about his body was on guard, I had seen a look like that before. I felt my nostrils flare as I set my jaw.

"What do you want with me?" I demanded, shaking my wrist to emphasise the fact I was being held against my will.

The man narrowed his eyes and cocked his head slightly, watching my every move like he was trying to pick out thoughts right from my brain.

" _Want_ from you?" he asked, his voice higher as if he couldn't understand the question. "You were bleeding."

"Yeah no thanks to your twat with the crossbow," I bit back.

"You attacked him, us."

"He deserved it. Shouldn't have stopped me."

The man's face hardened, his eyes flashing steel.

"You still want to hurt him? Why?"

I clenched and unclenched my jaw, lifting my chin in challenge.

"As I said. He deserves it."

The man looked down at the floor and then back at me.

"You're pregnant."

My eyes widened slightly and I wrapped my free hand around the bump under my t-shirt.

"Well spotted."

"Where's the father?"

I sucked in a sharp breath, trying to hold on to my hard expression but I knew it was crumbling at the edges. A face hovered in my memory and I had to break eye contact. I looked down at my bump, curling my legs closer despite the pain humming in my thigh.

"He's dead."

The silence that followed was echoed even outside. The chattering had stopped, and I could feel the collective breath the strangers had taken. It shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone that he was dead, really, and yet I could feel my own sadness radiating even onto beardy.

"You were really alone out there?"

I was fighting to keep the quivering in my lower lip still, and I didn't answer for a moment. He didn't press, instead waiting for me to gather myself and look up.

"Yes."

The man let out a long breath, looking as if his entire interrogation had been thrown to the winds. I tried to shift myself under his eyes, my skin itching to run.

"I got some questions and I need you to answer them," he said slowly, drawing my attention back to him.

"I don't really have much choice, do I?" My voice had taken a bitter tone, and I shook the cuffs again, causing them to rattle.

"That was necessary, you didn't give me a choice."

"Yes, because I was such a threat after you knocked me out. Thanks for that."

I could have been mistaken, but I was sure I heard a grunt from outside the cell. I craned my neck again, wanting to lean forward but unable to get any closer due to the man in front of me.

Beardy flicked his eyes to the door then back at me.

"Necessary."

I snorted through my nose but didn't say anything else. I refused to put myself into their shoes, because I didn't fucking care what they thought or what I had made them see as a threat.

"Three questions, and I want honest answers."

I rolled my eyes but jumped as he leaned forward. I turned my head away from him before he frowned and backed away, clearly stricken at my reaction. I watched as he moved around the cell, grabbing a small stool and pulling it closer. He sat a good distance away and I wondered whether it was because he saw how uncomfortable I was or because he was out of reach of my legs in case I flipped again.

There was an air of seriousness around him, and I suddenly had to wonder why some questions were so important.

Were they some kind of cult?

"How many walkers have you killed?"

I frowned, my forehead creasing as I studied the man sitting in front of me.

"Uh, I don't really keep count to be honest. How many have you killed?"

He didn't answer, instead just inclining his head. I felt a flush of anger at his patronising look. Who did this man think he was, demanding to know about me?

"How many people have you killed?"

That one did take me by surprise.

The man knew it too, because his eyes followed my shift in the bed. I hadn't been under so much scrutiny in so long that I'd forgotten how uncomfortable it was. The back of my neck was prickling and I felt as though every word I said right now would condemn me.

"I… don't know."

It felt like the all the air had been sucked out of the cell, from my lungs, from the people hovering outside. There was a movement that cast a shadow over the entrance to my cell, but I couldn't find it in me to move and have a look.

"You don't know?"

I turned to beardy and watched as the muscles in his cheeks twitched. His tensed body gave away his agitation and I held his eyes. If he wanted to think himself a mind reader then he could pick up on my honesty or he could disregard it. I wasn't in much of a position to care.

"Have you lost count of that too?" he demanded, a kind of disgust creeping into his tone. I kept my face blank but felt a frustrated blush creep up my neck.

"I never said that," I tried through gritted teeth, narrowing my eyes. "I said I don't _know_."

The man took a deep breath, mirroring my anger and looking at me as if he was seeing me in a completely different way. Good, I thought. Let him be afraid.

"Why?"

"Why what? Why don't I know?" I added a hint of sarcasm, just because I was so done with this whole situation.

"Why did you kill them?"

I opened my mouth for another smart reply, but the question had brought up old memories and I found myself sitting a bit dumb. I snapped my mouth closed, seeing another shadow dance by the entrance. Whoever was listening seemed to be hanging on my every word. I sat back against the wall, intent on ignoring the question. Who was this fool to question me? I didn't owe him anything.

"Listen," he said, his voice lowering to a menacing hiss. "If I think you a threat to me or my family then I will not hesitate to put you down. Understand me?"

A genuine sliver of fear crept into my stomach, and all the bravado I had tried to front out was slipping away. I used to want to die, so threats like that would have bounced off. But as my hand cradled the bump I realised I couldn't, not now.

I let out a long breath and looked down, shifting my legs so my bad one was hanging over the edge. I could tell that I wasn't wearing those jeans anymore but thankfully the blanket was wrapped around my lower half.

"I was being held in a compound against my will. I opened the gates and let the biters in so that I could escape. So I don't know how many people I've killed, if any."

My answer clearly surprised him, I could tell in the widening of his eyes. He didn't drop his suspicious body language, instead he just stared at me. I held his eyes for a moment but I was done answering his questions.

I caught a movement of his head before he slowly got up from the stall and made towards the entrance.

"Why did you bring me here?" I found myself asking, cutting him short. He didn't turn around, but he put one hand on the doorframe.

"Because I couldn't let a young girl die. There's been too much death already."

"So that's it? You're just going to leave me tied to the bed?"

He sighed and I watched his shoulders slump. Something about the man was so open to read yet I could tell he was trying to cover it up.

"We can't trust you, can't trust you won't attack us. So for now, yes."

"What if I need a wee?" I tried, just because I felt so helpless, and irritating him seemed like the easiest way to get what I wanted.

He turned to me then, just watching me. I didn't know what he was trying to find, but I watched him dig into his pockets and produce a little key. I felt a little flurry of hope, hope that he would let me go and be on my way.

"Why did you attack my man?" he asked seriously. I wanted to fire another question back, but he looked just as done as I felt.

"You should take a good hard look at the company you keep. Ask him yourself."

He opened his mouth to respond, but I was already looking away. I shifted my body so that I was lying awkwardly on the bed again, essentially stopping the conversation. Whoever was standing outside the cell started to mutter to the man as he left, and I was alone again.

* * *

It didn't last long.

The shuffling of footsteps sounded outside not five minutes later and I saw another figure walk into the cell.

"How are you feeling?"

I turned my head slightly, frowning as the figure limped steadily closer. He had a small bag under one arm and a plate in the other.

My stomach tightened as a meaty smell drifted towards me, and despite my better judgement, I moved to sit up. My back leaned against the hard bars, but the figure sat down heavily on the stool the other had left.

I studied him for a long moment and he sat there, letting me.

The man was old. His fluffy beard a bright white, tinted with the fading dark of the original colour. His eyes were lined from years of smiling, and his clothes were a simple shirt and jeans. He balanced the plate on his lap as he put the bag to the side. Then he sat there and studied me again, watching me as if I was going to jump for the throat.

"You were in quite a state when they brought you to me, and I can't say I wasn't surprised when I saw that."

He nodded at my stomach. His voice was deep with a roughened edge, although there was a gentleness to it I recognised as a bedside manner.

"Are you a doctor?" I asked suddenly, my voice a lot harsher than I first intended.

The man let out a deep chuckle and I saw the crinkles in his eyes bend to the gesture. A man who knew hardship yet also smiled. Knowing those two things, I sat further away. Men who looked kind were never real. Colours would show, and they would be just as dark as I imagined.

"Hardly. I worked on horses and cattle, and occasionally – people. Best we got to a doctor, though. How's the leg?"

I moved my leg away from him instinctively, and he watched my movements with a calm blue gaze.

"Hurts like a bitch."

The swear word didn't phase him, he just nodded understandingly, and that aggravated me more.

"That it would. The bolt went in deep, you're lucky it didn't go right through."

I let out a humourless bark of laughter, shaking my head.

"Lucky. Yes, something like that."

I was expecting some kind of comeback, but the silence only caused me to glance up. The man was still sat there, watching me. I could see a smirk hidden under his beard and I felt my face flush in irritation again.

"Are you going to ask me questions, too?" I said sarcastically, and again he didn't react. I was beginning to get uncomfortable under his eyes, there was nothing but kind understanding and I hated it. I didn't want that pitying look.

"Some, perhaps. Not if you don't want me to."

I ground my teeth and pulled my good leg up to my chest. The pain was becoming tangible now and I couldn't quite move my leg like I wanted to. He was still watching me and I found I hated this man, hated him for his kindness.

"What do you want to know?" I found myself asking quietly, interested to hear his questions. The other man's had been harsh and to the point, probing. Maybe this man's would be too. Maybe they wouldn't.

"What's your name?"

I frowned and looked up, noticing another shadow by the cell door. I still wouldn't crane my neck to see, but I was getting quite fed up with being watched.

"Ali."

The man smiled at me, a gentle gesture and I almost wanted to smile back.

"Hello, Ali. My name is Hershel, and I want to help you help yourself."

I let out a long breath. "Is that so?"

"Yes. As you can tell from this," he said, opening his arms to the room we were in. "This is a prison. It's secure, it's safe. We have food, electricity, fresh water and warmth for the winter. This could be a home to you."

I felt a tightening in my chest and I had to battle with my anger. I had to swallow the words in my throat because I was very close to shoving his idea of home where the sun didn't shine.

"Thanks but no thanks. I want to leave."

Hershel let out a long breath, almost as if he was expecting my answer to be that. I tried to look at him from under my lashes, but he caught me anyway. His face looked genuinely upset by my answer, but he nodded nonetheless.

"I couldn't tell you if that's a wise thing or not, Ali. But from where I'm sitting, inside this prison is best for you and your little one to come. Think on it, you don't have to get back to us right away. Rest, there's enough space for you here."

I opened my mouth to decline again, but then Hershel put the plate next to me and saw some kind of brown mush on a bed of rice. I wasn't sure if it was the baby or if it was my stomach that jumped at the sight, but I knew I owed it to both of us to put on a little weight.

Looking up at Hershel, I reached for the plate but felt my arm clank against the cuffs. I let out a sigh and nodded.

Using my other hand I pulled the plate closer, staring at the fork as if it was a foreign object. Everything about my sudden situation was bizarre. Hershel wasn't in a rush to leave, so I picked up the fork and took a bite.

The taste hit me hard, sitting on my tongue and flooding my mouth with flavour.

It was so strange because the food was warm, the rice was soft, and my stomach retaliated violently. My hand dropped the fork like it was a hot poker and I brought my palm to my mouth. My lungs had pressed tight, the first tell tale signs of a panic attack striking fast.

Hershel didn't speak, instead he reached out and moved the plate away. I nearly jumped out of my skin as I felt a warm pat on my knee. My first reaction was to lash out, but I was still thrown by the food. It was hard to even swallow it.

"I nearly... I forgot what real food..."

My words drifted off and I felt them catch in my throat, my eyes filling against my will. It was easier not to look at him, easier not to acknowledge that he was there. I battled with the emotions flaring in my chest, the taste of the food still tingling the back of my throat. There was a rustle to my side but I still couldn't look up, still didn't want him to see my tears.

"Think on it. Rest."

I nodded at his words, before I heard his gentle shuffle from the room. I didn't know how long it took me to gather myself but when I looked up, I was alone.

Alone.

The tears I had tried to stop flowed freely as I turned to reach for the food again. That's when I saw the fresh bottle of water sitting on the mattress.

Right next to a key.


	6. Then

My body jumped and wobbled as my hands clenched onto the small straps hanging from the roof while we continued to move through the streets. There were no windows but I wasn't looking for the light. Instead I kept my head buried in the crease of my mother's neck as we bobbed along, a deafening silence broken only by the roar of the engine.

The soft sobs from across the small space had dimmed, but not by much. I couldn't look up and watch any more, not when the little girl looked so broken.

"Where do you think they've taken him?" asked Matt again for the hundredth time. I felt my mother's shoulders slump against my cheek.

"I don't know."

My mother's voice was so hollow, so disconnected that I pulled back from her and slipped my hand into hers. The back of the army truck was dark and shadowed, only a little light filtering in from the front window. The men in uniform sat in the front seats weren't talking, they just wore similar stony expressions.

There was another sniffle and I finally turned back to the little girl clinging onto her father, her Cinderella dress crumpled and her golden hair knotted into her Minnie ears.

We had been tackled into a small group standing by a truck at the Disney entrance, everyone clinging onto the other as we shared our confusion. My dad had disappeared from our sight and we could do nothing but wait. Then we had been ushered into the back of the truck, and my heart had dropped when I saw that little girl. Same one from the diner. Minus her mother.

"Where are we going?" barked Matt to the driver, but neither man even acknowledged him. It was nothing but silence as we continued to drive. Louise was wrapped under my brother's arm but I could see from the hard set of his jaw that he was close to losing his temper.

Luckily my mum was there to calm us all down, else Matt would have no doubt been arrested.

"I don't have our medical insurance, or your dad's passport," muttered my mum under her breath, and I glanced at her again. Her skin had taken an ashen turn to it, her eyes big and unseeing.

"We can always get it later," I tried, even though my voice was barely a squeak. Mum didn't look at me though, still muttering about insurance and tetanus jabs.

We lapsed into that terrified, worried kind of silence until the car rolled to a stop.

Every body in the back of the truck snapped to attention, Matt almost getting to his feet as the two soldiers barked some orders and climbed out of the truck. The slamming of the doors echoed around the silence and I sent a glance to Matt. His eyes were set on the door, so I found myself looking at the little girl's dad. He sent me a nod, and I didn't know whether it was in reassurance or preparation, but I didn't get a chance to figure it out.

The back of the truck was yanked open, my eyes squinting at the sudden burst of sunlight.

"Can everyone please climb out of the truck and approach one of the medics here."

Matt was the first to jump out, and only a tap on the shoulder from Louise was enough for him to remember he wasn't the only one worried and afraid. He turned and helped her climb out, then he helped mum. I waved him away and jumped down myself, moving to help the little girl. Her dad murmured a thanks but I had already turned.

My eyes bulged as I took in the scene.

We were in the car park of some kind of massive building, a big glowing cross on the roof giving it away as a hospital. Yet it didn't seem like a hospital situation to me.

The car park was filled to the brim with people rushing around, soldiers and doctors, along with row after row of big green tents. There were shouts and tears as people were rushing to other tents. I tried to take in the scene but jumped back as four people darted past, pushing a stretcher with a squirming body on it.

I felt a jolt of panic in my chest and jogged to stand behind my mum. My family were making their way to a waiting woman wearing the tradition soldier cameos, the only difference being a band on her arm with a red cross. Her dark hair was pulled tight into a bun, but from the way small tufts of hair stuck out and the dark circles under her eyes, she hadn't stopped in a while.

"My name is Georgia, I'm here to help you find your loved ones," she said, an urgency to her voice tainted with exhaustion. My brother pushed to go to her but a hand stopped him, and my mum stepped forward.

"My husband, Michael Bryant was brought here from Disneyworld. We don't have any idea why or what's going on." I felt my heart drop to my stomach at the sadness in my mother's voice.

Georgia nodded, her face showing a small break of sympathy before she stood to attention again.

"Do you have any photo identification? Anything we can use to identify your husband, ma'am?"

My mum let out a long breath, her earlier statement about passports making sense until she seemed to get an idea. She grabbed the backpack and rummaged inside. When she pulled out the small black case, I felt a little niggle of relief.

"Matt, turn this on," she said quickly, taking the camera out of the case and handing it to my brother. Georgia stood rigid, her eyes taking us in as Matt turned on the camera and flicked through until he found a good picture of my dad. It was on our first night here, where we were all sat on our little balcony. Mum was smiling broadly under dad's arm. My stomach clenched as I watched Matt hand the camera back to Georgia. The woman looked at the screen for a few moments before nodding.

"Come with me," she said, turning on her heel and stepped away. We all leapt to follow, unsure what else we could really do. The truck that brought us here was already gone, along with the little girl and her dad.

Georgia kept up a brisk pace, walking around tents and past people until she stopped under a small make-shift shelter. It had tables and bottles of water piled high at the back. There was a young man stood behind a chair, tall and lean, wearing nothing but black and staring at the water in his hand as if he could get some answers from it.

"I'm going to take your camera ma'am to use it and find your husband. I need you all to wait here while I locate him."

Mum opened her mouth to respond, but Matt cut in first.

"Tell us what the hell is going on," he snapped, his cheeks flushed.

"Matthew!" barked mum, but Matt was far too engrossed in getting his answers. Georgia held up her hand, silencing my mother before facing Matt with a high chin and a weary expression.

"Cause is unclear sir, but we do know there is some kind of bacterial virus being spread rapidly between bodies. We think it's some kind of mutated strain of the rabies disease, but we have no conformation. For now we are treating those infected."

Satisfied with her answer, Georgia bowed her head and excused herself, leaving us with more questions than answers.

Standing under the small shelter, I hovered by a chair just as my mum sank into one of the fold up chairs. She leaned forward, dropping the rucksack on the floor and put her face in her hands. Matt was to the side, talking in quiet whispers to Louise. She looked like she was trying to calm him down, but he threw up his hands and stalked away.

I opened my mouth to call him back, but he only went to the edge of the shelter and sat down, putting his head between his knees. I crossed my arms and looked down at my feet. I had no words to comfort them, I needed comforting words for myself, but not knowing anything certainly didn't help.

There was a soft touch to the curve of my back and I turned, looking into Louise's wide blue eyes. She offered me a small smile, holding out a bottle of water. I tried to smile back but couldn't quite do it, instead taking the water and giving her a nod. She had more bottles in her hand, wandering over to my mum and passing her one. My mum sniffed and patted the girl's cheek, taking the bottle and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her thighs. Louise then made her way to Matt, sitting down next to him softly and passing him a bottle of water. I opened the lid of mine and took a swing, feeling the cool liquid calming my inflamed throat instantly.

Matt made a small kind of sound and leaned across just as Louise opened her arms and cradled his head, kissing his mousy brown hair and rocking him back and forth.

I felt tears stinging at my eyes again so I turned away from them, trying to find something else to focus on.

The only other person in the shelter was the tall man, who was still standing behind a chair. He looked like he was about to start throwing things, his knuckles white against the back of the chair. I heard him mutter a swear word under his breath, pushing back and digging into his pockets. When he pulled out a packet of cigarettes, my heart soared with the need for one.

I glanced at my mum and bit the inside of my lip, hearing the click and whoosh of a lighter. I smoked sometimes, when I was out drinking with friends, and if mum knew then she would clip me round the ear.

Then I took another look at our situation and decided she could scold me later.

"Excuse me," I said softly, the man turning to face me. The cigarette was between his lips as he looked me up and down.

I was struck first by his face. He had sharp, effeminate features and pale skin. His black hair was straightened at the front and stuck up wildly at the back. His eyes were darkened with make-up, a small ring through his lip. I realised he would be classed as an emo from where I was from, but it didn't deter me.

"Can I pinch one of those?" I asked, nodding to the cigarette in his mouth.

He stood rigid, his slim body slightly slumped as he took me in. His eyes were a bright blue-grey colour, and his body language radiated mistrust.

Still, he shoved a hand back into his pocket and held out the pack of cigs. I gave him a small smile of thanks, taking the pack and pulling one of the thin cigarettes out. I put it between my lips as he brought a lighter to my face and clicked it. Turning my head slightly, I took a long drag and inhaled it, nodding my head in thanks as I stood back. One arm wrapped around my middle and the other elbow resting on the forearm. I was quite glad that mum still had her back to me as I took another drag, feeling that flutter of guilt rile my stomach.

"You British?"

I jumped at the unfamiliar voice, deep and smooth and rounded with a calm American accent. I turned my head back to him and nodded, studying him again. His wrists were decorated with bands and tags, sporting different rock bands and concerts. His fingernails were painted in black gloss, some of them chipped as he brought his cigarette back to his lips.

"Who... who are you here for?" I asked slowly, wondering if that was a direct question but unable to stand the silence any more.

The guy looked down and kicked at the tarmac with his bright green Converses.

"Friend," he said bluntly, obviously not wanting to talk about it. I nodded my head and took another drag, fighting against the tears.

"You?"

I felt my lower lip quiver and had to cough before I could find my voice to answer.

"My dad."

The guy nodded, biting down on his piercing and we continued to stand in a melancholy silence. I opened my mouth a few times to ask different questions, but they wouldn't leave my lips. Small talk seemed pointless and prying into his friend's condition seemed too personal. So we just stood and smoked, until I let the butt drop to the floor, putting my sandal over it and pressing down.

"Misha Grayland?"

I looked up to see an unfamiliar man hovering there, a phone in his hand as the guy's body jumped up. He moved forward and I was surprised to see him glance back.

"Hope your dad's okay," he said quickly, ducking to follow the soldier.

"And your friend!" I called, but I don't know if he heard because he was already gone.

* * *

"Mrs Bryant?"

I nearly jumped from my skin as an unfamiliar voice penetrated the silence. My mum was already on her feet and the rest of us were quick to follow, standing up from the table. I couldn't say how long we had been there, all I could tell was that the shadow cast on the ground from the tent had moved quite a bit.

"Have you found him? Michael?" said my mum quickly, and the man nodded sombrely. I felt a sliver of fear in my gut at his expressionless face. He was holding out something, and mum took the camera quickly before looking up at the man, her eyes set expectantly.

"I'm very sorry, Mrs Bryant, I... have some bad news."

Some kind of bubble started to descend over my skin, covering it in a numb sheen and dumbing down the words as the man spoke them. Everything seemed to slow to a snail's pace as I watched the man's mouth move but unable to take in his words.

"Your husband has passed away. The infection worked too fast for us to treat and his heart couldn't handle it. I'm so sorry. I'll give you a moment and then take you to him."

My brain had started to jam, cracking and skipping on the same words.

_Your husband has passed away._

"What? He's only fifty one! How?"

My mother's voice was shrill as hysteria lingered at the edges.

_Your husband has passed away._

"How the fuck!" yelled Matt, a tremor lining every syllable.

_Your husband has passed away._

"He can't be... he can't be dead!"

_Your husband has passed away._

I wasn't sure if I was breathing. I couldn't tell if it was just my mind spinning or if my body had started to free fall, melting steadily into the tarmac. I didn't even feel myself collide with ground. All I could feel was the heat of the tarmac under my cheek, burning through the numbness that had spread through my veins. I think I blinked. I think I screamed. I think I saw a shadow of my dad a few paces away, lying on the ground and reaching out with a bloodied arm. I think I called him name.

_Your husband has passed away._


	7. Now

The pain was making it hard for any of my muscles to relax, and I found myself tossing and turning, trying to find some semblance of comfort amongst the unfamiliar blankets.

It was all in vain, of course. I knew the moment I opened my eyes that I wouldn't be able to sleep here. Too many nights scouring the silence for threats made it hard to sleep, even when I knew I had been safe. Now I was apparently safer than I had been in months, and yet sleep still eluded me.

I let out a long sigh, throwing off the blankets and shifting myself around to the edge of the bed. My bare feet brushed the cold concrete as I let out another pained breath. My thigh was on fire, burning deep down in the muscles.

My hands cradled the soft bandage as I glanced around, looking for some kind of relief.

Hershel hadn't come back, no one had. I had heard quite murmurs outside the cell, but I wasn't ready to meet them no matter how much I battled the urge to run.

It was unnerving, being kept in a cage with every opportunity to run yet not being able to even move. The worst kind of hell, especially for me.

I pulled off the blankets and studied my legs.

Thin, scratched and dirty, with pale skin and spiky black hairs. I shook my head gently, prodding at the stained bandage. I had to hope that it was my blood staining them rather than just old bandages being used on me. The idea of someone else's blood against my wound had my stomach rolling, but then again my stomach had been at war since I ate that food.

I didn't think the food would have been bad, or poisoned. If that was the case, they would never have given me the food, never mind wasting it by adding some rat poison or something. I knew it was because my stomach hadn't had anything other than tuna and water in weeks, so the rich meaty slop added with the rice was sending my digestive system into overdrive.

Bracing my hands on the bar above me, I tugged with all my might until my feet stood firmly on the ground and I twisted my body to lean against the frame.

Pain ran down my entire leg, the burning intensifying as I tried to keep my stomach at bay. Cold sweat had sprung up all down my back and my legs were trembling dangerously. No way in hell would I be able to make a run for it, not in this condition.

"What are you doing?"

The sudden voice inside the small box had my body snapping taught, which in turn caused me to bite out a groan as the rest of my weight was thrown onto my legs.

There was a flurry of motion and I was powerless to stop the hands as they grabbed my shoulders, turning my body and forcing me back onto the bed. I felt limbs flailing to grab the body that was manipulating me so easily, but whoever had my shoulders had run their hands down my forearms and were holding me still. My breath was coming in quick gulps as I struggled against the attack.

"Hey, hey! Hey, it's okay!"

The voice was talking firmly by my face, and despite the fear singing in my veins, I managed to fight through the panic and glance into their eyes.

"Oh my God," I gasped, the hands holding mine down tightening as my fingers dug into their palms.

"Are you okay?"

The soft, gentle features in front of me were haloed by a mass of dark hair, chopped short at the jawline to make way for easy sea green eyes. I continued to struggle for breath as the young woman knelt down in front of me, watching me with a steady gaze.

"Your… your…"

Tears had filled up my vision and I squeezed my eyes shut, taking deep breaths as the woman's hands in mine held steady.

"Ya'll don't have to be afraid any more. We're not going to hurt you."

Her voice was deep and smooth, so hard to hear with my mind as it was. Scattered.

"What do they do to you," I whispered, shaking my head and pulling my hands away. I couldn't open my eyes, couldn't face her.

There were women here. Kids. Strange, kind and terrifying men. What had I been brought to?

"Do to me?" she asked, obviously confused. I snapped my eyes open as I leaned away, taking the woman in as much as I could.

She was still watching me, a little crease on her forehead. Her clothes were worn, but clean. Her tanned skin free of blemishes and dirt. Her hair was messy, but unmatted. As I looked further down, I noticed the glint of a ring on her left hand.

"You're safe here," she tried again, but I refused to believe her words. Moving forward, I let my face hover right into her personal space, waiting to see that submissive flinch.

The woman didn't move. Her eyes widened at my sudden proximity, yet she didn't back away from it.

"They hurt you?" I whispered, checking her eyes for that emptiness I knew so well. Her eyes never shifted as she shook her head.

"No."

I bit the inside of my lip, shuffling back on the bed and away from her. She looked far too comfortable in her own skin, and didn't fit the image of a hollowed out soul that I was used to seeing.

"My daddy asked me to come check on you, offer you some pain relief. I brought you these, too," she said slowly, moving to stand again and pick up a small bundle she'd no doubt dropped after our little struggle.

I saw what looked like clothes, clean clothes, and a small bottle of pills that rattled as she moved. I kept my arms wrapped protectively around my bump as she eased herself onto the bed next to me. My glare didn't dissuade her pitying eyes though, so instead I just set my jaw and watched as she put the pile next to me.

"My name is Maggie. I don't know what's happened to you, and I won't ask. But you gotta stop looking at us like we're about to cut you down."

I let out a snort through my nose, shifting my hips until the pain dimmed in my thigh.

"Why would I think you wouldn't? Beard face made it quite clear you wouldn't hesitate if I showed even the slightest inkling of threat."

This Maggie girl let out a rush of air, shaking her head.

"Look at you, the state you're in. You can barely stand nevermind attack us."

I turned to the woman with an eyebrow raised, looking her over once again. She was taller than me, because most people usually were - but I could probably get her down in a couple of minutes if I had to.

"Don't underestimate a cornered animal, Maggie," I said quietly, curling my body a little tighter around my middle. "It'll fight tooth and nail."

I saw the woman cock her head slightly, but I wasn't about to explain my point. I wasn't even sure what I was intending by my words, probably the fact that they had trusted me into their home so easily. I wasn't going to hurt them, but they were lucky, because the next person might. These people had gone soft in their safety.

"Are you gonna fight?"

I turned my head a little, watching her hardened faced. It was quite surprising, the shift in her entire presence. I could read hardship and pain in her features, unlike the sweet softness there a moment ago. I found myself pursing my lips, intrigued. Maybe this one wasn't so soft.

"No."

We held each other's eyes for a moment before Maggie gave me a nod, patting the pile of clothes.

"Here, take these," she said, chucking the bottle of pills into my lap. "We have working showers, too."

The sudden intake of breath had been my own and I glanced up, unsure of what face I was making and yet it must have been hopeful enough to make Maggie smile.

"Showers?"

"Yeah, warm too."

The little moan left my lips before I could stop it, the idea of clean running water over my skin made my insides turn to jelly. I nodded at her quickly. Damn it all, if they wanted to find me a threat, fine. If they wanted to shoot me in the head, so be it. But if I was going to die, then I would die with a clean face.

"Can I go now? Will you show me?" I asked quickly, already grabbing the bars to haul myself onto my feet. Maggie jumped up just as I swayed, wincing at the pain in my thigh.

"Maybe you should rest a little more fir-"

"Maggie," I said, turning to her with a serious expression. The woman snapped her mouth closed, surprised by my sudden shift in mood. "I have brain and dirt and blood and snot and all kinds of horrible things in my hair, and on my skin. There is muck in some ungodly places. I haven't showered in months. Please. Please take me to the showers."

I reached out, widening my eyes pathetically. If the food had teared me up, the idea of shower would crack me open.

Maggie gave me a smile, flashing white teeth and giving me a glimpse of a wicked sense of humour. She had small lines around her eyes, too, and I found myself relaxing ever so slightly in her company. Women were hard to be around, not because I couldn't get along with them but because I had seen so many of them broken.

There was nothing worse than watching a woman have her soul beat out of her.

* * *

"You just pump this a few times… then it comes on."

As her words echoed around the small enclosure, I heard the slight whoosh before the hard splatter of water hit the tiles. My lower lip quivered as I reached out my small hands, cupping the lukewarm liquid and watching it fill in my palms.

"Thank you," I managed, turning to look at Maggie. The woman was smiling gently, her lips pressed together. It had been a long time since I saw kindness. I didn't believe it was kindness, I couldn't, but I could pretend it was. If only for a moment.

"You want me to, uh…?" Maggie gestured to my clothes and I bit back the urge to cower. Instead I gave her a soft shake of the head and watched as she placed the clothes in her arms on a little bench to the side. My body was already trembling with exertion, but I had managed to limp here by myself. I wasn't sure if I could get back, but that was another worry.

Right now I had moved back to the spray, putting my arms under it and choking back another groan.

"Here," said Maggie's soft voice as she held out a small rectangular object. My lips quivered again as I saw the small bar of soap.

"I didn't…I never thought I would see a shower again…" I sucked in another breath, my throat squeezing tight from the overwhelming emotions. "Thank you," I manage to get out, looking up into Maggie's easy green eyes. She was wearing that smile again, and she nodded, cupping my hand in hers and she passed me the soap.

I stood there for a few moments, waiting for her to leave. The shower room wasn't like a small bathroom - it was one massive space with showerheads over every wall, broken only by flimsy bits of plastic hanging from the ceiling to create the illusion of privacy. I was in the farthest corner, shielded by a piece of plastic to every side. Maggie had turned and left, I could hear her footsteps echoing against the tiles. Only when they stopped did I turn.

Limping carefully to the edge of the sheet, I peered round to see Maggie at the far end, talking to someone in soft whispers. They were too far away for me to hear, and I didn't recognise the other figure - they were stood too far to the left and were blocked from my sight by a wall.

Maggie had her arms crossed and was nodding, her face stern. I saw a hand reach out to cup her cheek and she leaned into it, her face melting into a soft smile.

I pulled back from the plastic.

It was hardly believable that there were still people alive. I wasn't stupid enough to think that absolutely everyone was dead, but being on my own for so long, not a hint of another living soul - you kind of started to believe that you were the last one out there.

Then you randomly walk into a group of strangers and end in up their showers. I let out a small, humourless chuckle, the soap still heavy in my hand. It was already bubbling up, and as I brought it to my nose there was a soft fragrance emitting from it. Lavender, I think.

Bizarre.

Worrying the inside of my lip, I hobbled to the bench and placed the soap on the clothes. I managed to balance awkwardly on the edge of the bench, enough for me to pull off my long sleeved t-shirt. It was so caked in muck that the material was stuck to my skin and I had to peel it away. Whatever colour it had been when I found it was long lost to dirt, sweat and blood. Resisting the urge to gag, I threw the disgusting top to the far corner, along with the vest underneath. Sitting there, bare chested, I felt a rush of cold air against my skin.

The vulnerability of bare skin sent a wave of goosebumps down my entire torso, and I wrapped my arms around my chest. My eyes were scanning the bathroom, expecting to see prying eyes.

I sat for a good few minutes, just watching. Waiting.

It had become habit to expect a presence when I was nearly naked. An awful habit I hadn't been able to shift. Finally, as another pang of pain ran down my thigh, I decided I didn't care. I managed to unhook the blanket from around my waist and pull my knickers off before slowly getting back to my feet.

Stepping under the spray was like walking into a corner of heaven, the rivets of fresh water racing over my skin. I tried to take a breath but my throat was all choked up, my body moving to stand completely under the spray. I ducked my head right under, putting my arms against the wall and leaning over, watching the brown water disappear down the drain. My lower lip quivered, my fingers clenching into fists against the tiles.

I felt the first sob wrack my body, silent, afraid to be released. The trembling inhale was soon accompanied by another sob, and even my hand over my mouth couldn't quite stop them. They came, one after the other, my tears rolling hot against my cool cheeks. I turned up my face, trying to breathe through the clear liquid that ran up my nose.

The sobs wracked my chest, my body, even as I grabbed the soap and started to lather up my skin. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

Who were these people, to offer a hand so lightly? Didn't they know that a feral creature, no matter how tame it seemed, would bite them in the end?

* * *

"She's resting. I don't think that girl has seen another human being in a long time. Looked like a wild creature when you brought her in."

Hershel moved steadily around the bench, sitting quickly on the end and placing his plate in front of him. Maggie leaned against Glenn, a mug of steaming coffee in her hands.

"Should have seen her face when I told her about the showers…" Maggie bit her lower lip and shook head head, glancing thoughtfully into her cup as if it held the answers.

"I wonder what happened to her," piped in the gentle voice of Beth as she moved to sit at the table.

Daryl was focusing on shovelling the food on his plate into his mouth without choking. He kept his eyes on his plate, but his sensitive ears were peaked at the conversation just a table over.

"Nothin' good," said Maggie softly, sighing. "I dunno if we can convince her to stay. She seems terrified by people. Even asked me what they did to me."

"What do mean?" asked Hershel over a mouthful.

"When she saw me, was like she saw a ghost. She came right close to my face, staring, looking for somethin'. I dunno what she saw, but she just looked so sad. I didn't know whether she was gonna hit me or hug me. Somethin' real bad happened to her."

The conversation went still as Daryl scraped up the last of his beans, shoving them between his teeth as he got to his feet. No one paid him much mind as he put his plate on the far counter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he slung his crossbow over his shoulder.

Just as he turned to leave the dining hall, Daryl nearly collided with the one person he'd been trying to avoid.

"Been looking for you. I think we need to talk."

Daryl ran his tongue behind his teeth as he lowered his head slightly, keeping his expression blank. He nodded and moved with Rick through the halls and around corners until they stepped into the sunshine outside.

Rick didn't even try to bring it up casually, and that was why Daryl liked him. There was none of that fake talk, just right to the point.

"That girl seems to think you deserved being attacked. I wanna know why."

Daryl bit the inside of his lip, deliberately not looking at Rick as he tried to find the words to explain.

"Found her a while back and we got separated. Guess she's pissed we didn't find her again."

He shrugged, holding the strap across his chest and waiting as Rick seemed to think on what he'd said.

"When?"

Daryl glanced down, looking away from anyone who was around, trying his hardest not to remember the kid they'd stumbled across.

"Back when it was just me an' Merle."

Rick put both his hands on his hips and glanced at the sky, turning back to give Daryl a side glance.

"Think she's dangerous?"

Daryl let out a snort, drawing Rick's keen eye again.

"She's a kid. We've faced worse."

The silence that stretched out after Daryl's words was deafening, Rick just staring at him. Thankfully the man didn't push, instead patting Daryl's shoulder awkwardly.

"We can't let her go in her condition, so maybe it's worth trying an apology. Just an idea."

Daryl let his eyes flicker to Rick's face, seeing the hard lines under his eyes. He gave the man a sharp nod before Rick turned and wandered back into the prison. Daryl let out a long breath as he started towards the tower, climbing to the top before running a hand through his hair. He found himself digging into his pockets, pulling out the half smoked butts he kept for when shit got bad. He lit the biggest one, sinking at the edge of the tower and looking over the forest. He inhaled the smoke deeply, letting it out in a rush.

Somehow, he didn't think an apology would really hit the spot. Not with what he did to her.


	8. Then

My eyes fluttered open, and focus centered my vision, I still couldn't break through the bubble that filled my head. Nothing was real, not the nurse gently rubbing my back, not the bottle of water pressed into my hand. Not my mother sobbing against my brother, not the tent keeping the sun from us.

It wasn't real, the way a man helped me to my feet, or Louise's soft hands as she took the crook of my arm. Not my legs, as they stumbled across the tarmac.

Not even the shaky breath I took as they led me outside another tent, this one dark blue. Nothing made sense.

Not until I stepped inside and saw my dad lying on a stretcher, his face smooth and expressionless. His skin, no longer glistening with sweat, but now a pallid pale grey. I stood there, unable to think or breathe, just watching my mother as she lay across his chest. Her aching sobs echoed through my body, vibrating inside my rib cage. My heart fluttered to respond, my bones singing to stop the noise. But I couldn't. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.

Nothing was real.

* * *

I don't know how long I stood there. At some point I was ushered into a chair, but I don't know who by. All I felt was the weight lifted off my feet, and my view of dad getting closer. Mum still hung over him. She sobbed against his still chest, her fists balled against his top. Was it really only a few hours ago that he was sitting next to me, laughing as we shot down a rollercoaster? Did he really kiss my forehead last night before I went to bed? How did I sleep, when I only had a few hours left with him? How did I think tomorrow was guaranteed, without taking into account that it could be his last?

We must have been here a while, because when mum glanced up from dad's chest, her eyes were swollen and puffy. They only got that bad when she cried for a long time.

"We need… we need to call Dan," she choked out, her eyes tearing all over again at the thought of telling our brother. He was sat at home, probably on his xbox thinking we were having a great time. Now we had to tell him the truth.

"I'll do it," croaked Matt, standing up from the corner he'd been curled in, wrapped loosely around Louise. Her cheeks were pink too, her mascara smudged. She might not have gotten on particularly well with my mum, but she adored my dad. He always treated her like one of the family, right off the bat.

Mum nodded and turned back to my dad, his hand wrapped in hers. She just stared at his face, brushing her lower lip against his knuckles, whispering under her breath. I continued to sit there. I sat still, unable to speak. There was no closing of my throat, no prickle in my chest, no inkling of a panic attack.

Maybe because the breath just wasn't reaching me, or maybe because my brain couldn't quite catch up with what was happening.

Matt murmured softly to Louise and the blonde handed over her mobile. He gave her a small nod and wandered out of the tent, leaving the three of us still sitting around my dad. My mum was rocking back and forth, a steady stream of tears flooding down her cheeks. I watched one droplet fall onto my dad's white knuckles, making a trail over his lifeless skin.

I tried to feel sad. I tried to reach into my chest and pull at my still heart and force some kind of reaction. But I just couldn't break through the numbness.

Matt came back in a little later, handing the phone out to Louise, his face blotchy and eyes shining. Mum even looked up.

"Dan wasn't there, he was round Nick's. I spoke to Nana. She's going to tell him."

Mum just nodded solemnly, turning back to stare at Dad's face again. It was bizarre, because he should have moved. He should have opened his eyes and laughed, mum would punch him and berate him and he'd grab her and kiss her temple and we'd go back to Disney and finish our holiday.

"Alice."

I jumped at the hand on my shoulder, looking up at Matt. I watched him for a moment, waiting to hear what he had to say. His face looked haggard, especially for a twenty four year old, but there was a frown on his face which didn't quite fit the sadness that was there a moment ago. He jerked his head to the side, and I glanced where he wanted to go. It was the far corner. I brought my eyebrows together, not quite understanding what he meant.

Matt gave out a frustrated grunt, grabbing my arm and yanking me none too gently out of my chair and over to the corner. My mouth opened to say something, but the words died on my tongue.

I still couldn't gather my thoughts.

"Alice, I need you to listen to me. Alice!"

I felt my body jerk sharply as a hand squeezed my shoulder, glancing up into Matt's brown eyes. He was giving me a fierce expression, one I had only ever seen a handful of times. I frowned again.

"Why…" My tongue felt heavy and swollen.

"Listen to me, Alice. We need to get mum back to the hotel. Something… something is going on and I don't like it."

"What's the matter?" asked Louise gently, craning her neck as she walked towards us. Her face was oddly pale, her eyes wide.

Matt let out a long breath.

"Something is wrong here. I heard gunshots outside."

I blinked. "Not fireworks?"

Matt turned to me, exasperation on his face. I felt myself leaning away, not recognising the man standing in front of me.

"Why would there be bloody fireworks, Alice? _Something_ is happening, OK? We need to get mum out of here."

The three of us turned at the same time to look at mum, but she was far too focused on my dad. Still rocking back and forth, she had gone into some kind of trance. As we studied her stunned movements, a noise invaded our space. Three popping sounds, loud and terrifying. I heard Louise squeak before I looked over at Matt.

His lips were pursed, his eyes hard. A sliver of fear wormed its way into my stomach, past the numbness and in turn, shattering the bubble. I sucked in a heavy breath, as though I'd been holding it for hours. My eyes started to water but I found myself glancing back at mum.

"I don't know if she'll come," I said slowly, my voice sounding strained to my own ears. Matt shook his head, my answer clearly not to his liking. He didn't say another word to me, instead moving to mum. She barely twitched as he approached.

"Mum… we've got to go back to the hotel. We need to phone people and arrange things… we need to talk to Dan properly. You can't just sit here like this."

I don't think I'd ever heard Matt's voice so soft, so gentle. It was like he was coaxing a starving animal to eat from his palm, and from the flutter of my mum's eyes, it was working.

"I don't want to leave him," she whispered brokenly, and Matt moved to kneel in front of her. He took her hands and put them to his cheeks, giving her no other choice than to look into his face. Matt was nodding, his eyes brimming as he studied the pain, as he no doubt felt it ricocheting around his own body.

"He'll… we... "

I saw my brother struggling, and I managed to take an unsteady step forward, getting to my knees and putting my head in my mum's lap like I used to when I was small. I heard my mum's strangled gasp, but her hand flew to my hair.

"Come on, mama," I said softly, unable to look at my dad's body any more. "We have to go."

I felt her hand tighten in my hair before she exhaled a long, weary breath.

I looked up to see her nodding, and Matt getting to his feet. He reached around and grabbed the rucksack mum had long since forgotten, chucking it over his shoulder and moving to stand by mum.

She took a deep breath and nodded, somehow managing to gather her wits enough to get to her feet. Her lovely curly hair spilled forward as she leaned over my dad's face, kissing his forehead. I heard another sob break free and this time, the pain hit me like a sledgehammer, right in the chest. The wind was knocked out of me, and I had to take a step away and towards Louise. I didn't even mind when the girl threw her arms around my shoulders.

"Just give me a minute," she managed, seemingly unable to move away. Matt tensed but nodded, moving to me and standing by Louise.

"Come on, give her a minute," he all but muttered, turning and leaving the tent. I took a slow breath, still unable to believe my eyes. Why wasn't he moving? It was a sick joke to play on my mum, that was for sure. Well, she'd give him hell when he… when he…

There was a tightening in my throat, a building pressure in my chest. I somehow moved and walked from the tent, sucking in quick, sharp breaths, putting my hand in the middle of my chest and pushing hard - as if that would relieve the pressure.

"Oh my God!"

My head snapped up just as there was a symphony of popping sounds, louder and more frightening than before. I felt my eyes widen as I watched a group of army men charging into a tent, flashes of light pulsating in time with the bangs.

"What the fuck…Mum, mum we have to-"

Matt's words were cut off by a sound that turned my blood to ice. I felt it in my stomach, heard it in my chest. It pierced the popping sounds and caused an onslaught of panic.

A scream, shrill, devastating… coming from behind us.

"MUM!"

Matt shoved past me, my body turning in tandem with his before we burst into the tent.

Only to see my dad, sitting up, arms wrapped around my mother's back in what could have been an embrace… if he wasn't tearing her throat from her neck.

Louise screamed. I screamed. Matt screamed.

Mum's body was frozen, her blue eyes bulging in terror as she gurgled on the blood drowning her. Dad pulled back, ripping pink tendrils with him and splattering the tent side in red droplets.

I think my face was frozen in horror, I couldn't even move when my mum's body went slack.

Louise screamed again, short bursts of terror that hurt my skull.

There were shouts from outside, and all I can remember is that one minute I was staring into the gaping hole in my mother's neck, and the next I was bending by the side of the tent violently bringing up bile.

"The blood, the blood!" was screeching down my ear, so trill and hysterical that I was sure it burst an eardrum.

"Let me see her! No, let me see my mum! Mum! MUM!"

"We gotta go, we gotta go! Get those kids up here, now!"

I let out another heart-wrenching scream, the image burned behind my eyes. Blood, pouring down her shoulders and neck. My dad's eyes, empty, white.

I saw Matt being tackled, fighting tooth and nail against the three men dragging him up and into the back of a truck. Louise was pulled in after, and then my weight was being shifted. My mouth was still frozen in the half scream, my eyes still watching the life slowly draining away from the sweet blue orbs that had been my world.

**Two Days Later**

"You need to eat something."

The plate hovering under my nose was steaming, some kind of rice dish, but I just turned in the cot and put my back to the soldier-boy offering it to me.

I heard a sigh and a clunking sound, but didn't both to look again. What was the point?

I could still hear Louise's stifled sobs. She hadn't stopped since we got to the army base. According to someone (who's name I didn't really care about), whatever had happened at the hospital was a 'rare occurrence' and apparently, 'it was being handled'. They didn't handle what happened to my mum. They didn't handle my dad's illness. They didn't handle anything when they ran into my parents' tent and all I could see were pulsating flashes accompanied by godawful popping noises.

We'd all been piled into the back of a truck and driven to some kind of military base. I wasn't sure how long I had sobbed. Until my eyes ached and stung, until my throat was raw. I don't recall walking into the base, or giving my name. I don't even know how the band on my wrist got there, or how long we'd been in this tiny little room. It had a set of rickety bunk beds and some kind of made up bed in the corner.

Matt was still sat there, on the floor amongst the blankets, staring at his feet. I don't think he'd moved much either.

People had come in and out, but Matt had been the one to speak to them. Shouts echoed down the halls a few times, but other than that it was quiet. Save for the crying breaks in between.

Now I ached, my chest hurt, I couldn't sit still much longer.

Shifting in my cot, I turned and looked at Matt. His face was pale, bags shining under his eyes. He hadn't slept, not like me and Louise who drifted in and out of consciousness.

My legs were itching to move, but my mind was still sluggish and slow. Somehow I shifted myself into a sitting position, taking in the little room for the first time.

Plain grey walls, a metal desk to the left. Right in front of me was the door and Matt was sitting to the right. There was barely enough room for the three of us to stand together. Bracing myself on the edge, I finally noticed my plastic band.

_Alice Bryant - 04/14/1992 - Britain_

When had they asked me those questions? I frowned, running my finger over the soft plastic. I suppose it didn't really matter.

Leaning my head forward, I felt my hair slipping over my face and blanketing my vision to nothing but my knees. I was still in my shorts, vest top and sandals. Hadn't even bothered to take them off. With a long breath, I moved my hands over my face and up my forehead, brushing my thick black hair back.

I felt dirty, my skin coated in a layer of sweat, tears and dirt. My clothes were sticking to my skin, it was gross. I wasn't sure who I could smell, either. Myself, my brother or Louise, but together it absolutely honked.

I found myself glancing at the table where three full plates sat, filled with rice and some yellow kind of topping. It made my stomach roll just looking at it.

I felt a tingling on my arms, a heat on my skin, pressing down and making me squirm. I couldn't sit in this room any more. Somehow I got to my feet, steadying myself on the bars. By standing I saw Louise lying on the top bunk, curled around herself with a tissue held against her lips. Her big blue eyes were unseeing, the tears steadily streaming over her nose almost secondary to the horror painted on her face. She looked shell shocked. We were all shell shocked.

She didn't look at me as I stumbled over to the desk, grabbing at a bottle of water as it stood there, untouched. Ripping off the lid I tried to take a tentative sip, but as soon as the liquid touched my dry lips I was sucking at the neck with all my strength. It was pouring from my mouth, running over my chin, but I didn't care. I drank the bottle dry, gasping at the end and taking gulps of air.

When I caught my breath, I managed to put the empty bottle back on the desk and picked up another, moving slowly over to Matt. My stiff muscles protested the movement as I kneeled, but the little rivets of pain brought me out of my daze, bit by bit.

"Matt," I croaked, wincing at how pitiful I sounded. "Matt."

He only looked at me when I nudged his knee, but it was a hollow look and I was hard pressed not to go back to the bunk and sleep for another week. Sleep made us forget. The pain didn't exist when we slept.

"Drink this."

I opened the top of the bottle and held it out to him. Only his earthy brown eyes moved, flickering from the bottle to my face and back to his feet. I sighed and held the water closer, letting the rim of it touch his lips. The moisture seemed to be enough, as he slowly took the bottle and sipped at the neck. He had the same reaction as me, draining the bottle dry before passing me back the empty plastic. I noticed a band on his arm, too.

_Matthew Bryant - 11/19/1986 - Britain_

I awkwardly patted his knee and got to my feet. With the last bottle of water I tried to coax Louise into drinking, but whatever those glassy eyes were focusing on certainly had a hold of her. I managed to wet her lips, and her pillow, before giving up with a sigh.

The water in my stomach sloshed as I moved around the room, grabbing the rucksack from where it had been dumped in the corner. Sinking onto my bunk, I slowly started to open the bag and pull out it's contents.

Suncream. Half a bottle of water. A small bag of sweets. The camera. My…

I felt my lower lip start to trembled as I recognised the small square of brown leather. It was battered and scratched, but the faded imprint on the front still lingered.

_To Daddy, love Ali x_

The pain in my chest was tangible, pulsating and twisting, worming around my heart and constricting the beat.

Before I could break down completely, I shoved the wallet away and got to my feet. I left the backpack behind me on the bunk and made a beeline for the door. No one spoke as I wrenched it open and stepped through, slamming it shut behind me.

The corridor looked like something out of a factory, all bare pipes and grated ceiling. Part of me wondered whether we were being held here for safety or something more sinister. I swallowed thickly, feeling a rush of cold against my bare arms. I forced one foot in front of the other, looking at the other doors lining the walls.

There was nothing but silence, the odd pang or twinge of movement above. I glanced down, seeing solid ground under my sandals. Voices started to whisper as I turned a small corner, peering around the edge to see a door at the end. Two men in combat uniforms were laughing and chatting to each other, like nothing was wrong. One of them had a cigarette between his fingers, and I had that rush in my veins to join him.

I must have made a noise with my feet because they both looked up at the same time. It was only when they stood straight that I noticed the black straps across their chests with big guns sitting against their stomach. I shrank back, my heart fluttering against my ribcage.

"Hello? It's all right, you can come out."

The one talking, a young soldier with a floppy blond fringe spoke gently, the two of them easing their stance as I stepped around the corner, my limbs trembling.

"Hi there," he said with a small smile. The other soldier, an older man with a scar over his chin, nodded and went back to the cigarette he had between his teeth.

I made my way forward slowly, wrapping my arms around my middle as I approached them. Were they the only ones here?

"What's your name?" asked the blond, walking to meet me and offering me a gentle smile.

"Alice."

His smile widened as he looked me over. I tried not to shift under his gaze.

"You must be cold," he said suddenly, pulling off his jacket and placing it on my shoulders in one quick motion. I tried to smile but I didn't quite make it, settling for a nod.

"My name is Braden. You look like you've been through hell."

My throat tightened at that, and I tried to swallow but the lump in my throat was preventing me.

"Come on, you must be hungry."

He slipped an arm around my shoulder, moving me forward without being able to stop him. Being so weak and small had me moving with his will. The other soldier let out a grunt, pushing the door open for us.

I was led through by Braden, glancing back to see the soldier with the cigarette smirk at me and wave, right before the door slammed shut and he was gone.


	9. Now

I felt my eyes flutter, my jaw tensing hard as I balled my fists at my sides. The hands against my skin were firmly set, gentle in their exploration but skilled in their movements. I felt sweat breaking out on my forehead, my throat tightening in reaction to being touched. The fingers were calloused as they pressed harder. I sucked in a sharp breath and the fingers eased. My own hands flew to my bump, brushing over Hershel's as he moved back.

"From what I can tell," he said after a moment. "Everything seems fine."

I felt my eyes welling, the fear thrumming in my veins. It had taken three days of gentle persuasion to let Hershel examine my belly, pressing to see if it was growing normally. There was only so much he could find out by a few prods, but his words relaxed me in a way I didn't realise I was tensed.

"Are you okay?"

I turned my head to see Maggie's soft smile as she sat next to her dad, her hand on the edge of the bed. My best guess was she put it there in case I needed to hold it, but it had been hard enough keeping myself still as a stranger's hands touched my skin.

"Do you have any idea how far through you are?"

I swallowed thickly, grabbing the tank top I'd been loaned and pulling it down over my bump. I shook my head once I was covered, pushing myself up to lean my back against the bars of my bed. I was hard pressed not to curl into a ball until they both left the cell.

"Thank you for letting me have a look at you. I know you're not comfortable with it."

I blinked a few times, cupping the bump and nodding sharply. My fringe fell into my eyes and I quickly moved to hook the hair behind my ear. It had been all floppy since I'd washed it, which was annoying yet nice not to feel the muck sticking it to my head.

"Can I take a look at your leg?"

My chest tightened and I found myself glancing at Maggie. The woman's soft eyes were watching me steadily, and she gave me a nod as if I needed her assurance. I didn't, because in my mind I knew it was a lie, and still I was slightly comforted by her presence. I took a long breath and pulled down the covers, my fingers twitching as I bore my legs to the older man. I had taken off the jeans in preparation for this, I knew what he'd wanted to do. Maggie had explained as much. She'd said if I didn't want to go through with any of it, then I didn't have to. But I hadn't had the bandages changed since I got here, and it was getting more painful.

"Lord," whispered Hershel, his attention now on the soiled bandage. I ground my teeth as his fingers reached out, brushing the now brown bandage wrapped awkwardly around my thigh. Hershel moved his head in a semi-shake, reaching to grab the bag he'd put beside him.

"This isn't going to be pleasant, Ali," he warned, and I nodded. When he pulled out a pair of scissors, I felt the pressure push harder on my chest. I wasn't sure if it was me, or Maggie, but I felt warm fingers wrap around my own and as he had already started to cut the bandage away, I didn't let go.

The wound was revealed slowly, Hershel urging the material off the dried blood and scabs, leaving nothing but the hole. Bruising had spread down my thigh, the wound itself looking like a black mass surrounded by shiny pink flesh.

"I need to clean it and re-wrap it," he said as he worked pulling a bottle of clear liquid and a mass of rags from his bag. I took a few sharp breaths, leaning back and closing my eyes as he started work on cleaning it up.

The skin surrounding the wound was tender, each press sending a jolt of pain to the hole and down to the muscles. When he reached the actual entrance point, I heard a strangled noise in my throat. The hand in mine tightened and my entire body went rigid as he started to clean. The clear solution was cold, it stung so harshly that my eyes watered, mingled with the sharp pains of aggravating the wound itself.

Maggie was talking slowly, and it took me a moment to focus on her voice.

"What?" I demanded, my voice hard against the pain.

"What are you going to call your baby?" she repeated quickly, smiling a little. I frowned and let out a breath, gasping as the pressure against the hole increased.

"I don't know," I bit out, pouting my lips and sucking in breaths.

"What names do you like?" she persisted and I let my head roll back.

I was grateful for what she was trying to do, even though I knew it was only distraction. Still, I decided to give it a go.

"I like... Janine... Matthew... Daniel..."

The names were like calling up spirits, the warmth radiating in my chest as the faces filtered through my mind. In my moment of pain, the names were a comfort but it felt like I was opening a gateway into my memories that Maggie didn't deserve to know.

"I like them," she said gently, her smile unwavering as she kept her eyes locked on mine. I noticed the glint of her ring again, and as Hershel pressed into the gaping wound, I needed to hear something more than my rapid breathing.

"Are you married?" I breathed, squeezing her hand as the pain shook my vision.

"Yes," she said, this time her smile genuine. "To Glenn."

"Is he... nice? Good to you?"

She let out a small laugh, and I recognised something like joy in her features. It was bizarre, but whatever delusion she'd bought in to seemed to be working.

"He's the best man I know, besides daddy," she added quickly after a side-glance from Hershel. I actually fought the urge to smile, letting out a gasp as I felt a scab being wiped away.

"I like Matthew," said Hershel suddenly, and we both turned to the man. He was still concentrating on my leg, but I saw Maggie's smile.

"If it's a boy," she said, looking at me with a twinkle of excitement in her eyes.

"If it's a boy," I echoed, although my voice was sadder.

My tone seemed to sober them, and the next few minutes were spent in silence before Hershel finally pulled back. I risked a glance down and saw a clean leg and the puncture wound, glistening with fresh blood but not looking as scary as before.

"Now, you'll have to let me clean this daily and if you won't let me, then at least clean it yourself, alright?"

I looked into Hershel's kind face, at the stern look he was giving me and found myself nodding. He gave me a nod in return, pulling out a fresh roll of bandages and moving my leg so he could start binding it again.

When it was done, I slid my leg straight, the aftershocks of pain running to my toes. I pulled the blanket back over my legs and wiped a bead of sweat off my brow.

"You should get some rest," said Hershel as he got to his feet, taking his bag with him. I could only nod, sinking back into the warmth of the mattress.

"We're having dinner soon. You should come, meet everyone."

I looked up at Maggie, my lips pursing into a tight smile. I had only met a handful of people in the past few days. Hershel and Maggie, a young blonde girl called Beth who was apparently Maggie's sister, and a gentle-faced woman with steel eyes called Carol. They all seemed nice, and it didn't go unnoticed that they were all women, either. The only man I'd seen save beardy was Hershel.

Yet the idea of meeting them all, and from the amount of people referred to there must have been quite a few of them...it turned my stomach into knots.

I could barely manage Maggie and Hershel, never mind an entire room full of people. I hadn't seen beardy or _him_ since I got a bolt in my leg, but I was OK with that. Beardy made me uneasy. There was something honest about his words, and that was the terrifying part. I firmly believed that he would put a bullet between my eyes if I so much as looked at his 'family' the wrong way. That's what had me itching to leave.

People were bad enough. Relentless people like him were terrifying.

I curled up under the blanket and rolled onto my side, leaving my bad leg without weight. This left me looking at the far wall, and do nothing but think.

Maggie had brought me food so far, and that Carol. Beth had come with Hershel before for another failed attempt to examine the baby. I let out a long breath.

How surreal this was. Warmth and food and people. I never thought I'd have it again. Never thought I'd have the luxury of a shower - hell, soap hadn't crossed my mind in months.

Now here I was. Clean. Comfortable. Full, for the most part.

My fingers ran idly over my bump, tracing patterns over my t-shirt. I could feel the gentle flutter inside, now more prominent than it was at first. Not exactly kicks, but brushes, like wings. It was strange, because even though I knew they had been there before, I hadn't paid much attention. I hadn't acknowledged the life inside me very much, in all honesty. Talking to it, loving it, admiring the wonder of life – it seemed like a jinx. The last thing I needed was to curse whatever was happening. Better to ignore it until it was in my arms.

I let out a long breath and shifted my hip, looking at nothing particular until I saw a strap sticking out from beneath the stool.

When did they bring that in?

I found myself shifting with ease, sitting up before I felt the stabbing on pain both in my stomach and leg. I barely winced as I stood up awkwardly and grabbed my rucksack.

Like a blind man grasping at air, I tore into the rucksack and shuffled around it's contents before I really took in what I was doing. The urge to empty the entire thing onto the bed overcame me, so I did just that.

My hands ran over the multitude of items until my fingertips brushed soft leather, my heart starting a desperate rhythm in my throat. I clasped my hand around the wallet and held it tight to my chest, taking deep, agonising breaths until my throat decided to open up again. The moment of panic had brought tears to my eyes, and I felt them fall as I looked into my palm. The leather was worn now, the stitches coming away. It wouldn't hold together much longer, but I refused to let it go. My thumb brushed over the now completely faded inscription, but I would never forget what it said.

I tucked the wallet under my pillow and started at my other things.

There was a multitude of random things - from hair grips to forks, lose matches and shoe laces. I shook my head as I sorted through, going through the metal inventory I'd repeated every day like a mantra. Everything was there, even my iPod. I smiled as I pulled it free. Not my iPod, really. One I'd found in an abandoned apartment complex, and it was the best compilation of music I'd found yet. Even better that I had a charger for it, long with a decent set of headphones. The only downside was how scarce electricity had become, so while it was great when it lasted - I hadn't had the thrill of good music in a long while.

My eyes sought the ceiling, and I couldn't help but smile faintly as I saw the flickering light there. On and working.

Of course, there were no plug sockets in my cell. This had housed bad men, why would they be given electricity? Biting the inside of my lip, I repacked my bag, all too aware that my little collection of knives had vanished.

With my iPod clenched in my left fist, I turned off the bed and grabbed the jeans. They were far too long, so managing just about to bend over, I turned up the bottom and slipped my feet into my comfortable boots.

My clothes had been brought back to me after a day or so, and even though they were obviously clean, the jeans were stained red. And ripped, so whoever gave me the clothes I wore now, I'd decided to keep them.

My heart jumped into my throat as I turned to face the exit to my cell. I knew the block was in a rectangle shape, stairs just a few paces away from my cell that lead up to what must have been more cells. The showers had been to the left, quite close to where I was. But I'd seen interlinking hallways to the right, and if I wanted to find a working plug socket then that would be my best bet. Swallowing thickly, I kept my right hand against the wall as I swung round into the empty cell block.

My movements were slow, my leg still throbbing as I hobbled along, palming my way over the soft concrete.

As I reached the end, I saw some kind of sitting area with benches and small facilities hidden behind cages. The doors were left open, and as I climbed through I kept my eye out for a little plug socket. There was still nothing there and I sighed, turning to the tables. Board games and cards were strewn across the surface, a few discarded mugs. It looked like it had been abandoned and my heart fluttered for a moment. Even though I didn't want to be around people, the thought of just being left stirred panic in my throat.

It was only when I heard a faint laugh from down a hallway did I manage to catch my breath. I looked around the space, every corner, behind every machine - no sockets.

With gritted teeth I pushed on down the hallway, noticing the flickering lights as I made my way down. The light at the other end was filtered through glass windows, those protected by strong iron bars. The laughter had dimmed to a small mutter and as I hovered at the end of the corridor, I finally saw the group in full.

They were in some kind of dining hall, sitting around tables and talking freely to one another. My mouth hung open as I studied the amount of people milling about. Some were standing, some were sitting. Old people and young people, seemingly so comfortable around one another.

There were a few faces I could pick out.

Maggie, Hershel, Beth. I saw Carol sitting in a corner talking to two little blonde girls - they seemed to be hanging on every word she said. I couldn't quite take it all in, especially when I saw something being passed to Beth and she smiled in return, cradling the little bundle of blankets. Only when they were pulled down did I see it wasn't such a small bundle, and the baby let out a loud laugh as Beth blew raspberries against her neck.

I wasn't sure how long I stood there rigid, unable to take everything in at once. It seemed so… normal.

As normal as the apocalypse could be.

It was everything I had been praying to find, and everything that terrified me.

"Ali?"

My body jolted out of my surprised stance, glancing around quickly for the owner of the voice. My name had been called loudly, and as I glanced around I saw more than a few sets of eyes turning to face me. The onslaught of attention had my instincts kicking in, and I swung my body around back into the hallway.

Only to step smack bang into a hard body. I gasped as hands flew out to grasp my shoulders, stopping me from toppling over completely. The light was less vibrant in the corridor, but as I looked up I recognised the man. His hands quickly let me go and I found myself taking a step back.

Soft blue eyes watched me steadily, regarding my reaction and trying to analyse my next move. It was still just as unnerving now as it had been the first time he'd stood in my personal space.

"Are you alright?"

His voice was gentler now, less inclined to demand information from me. I couldn't find my tongue, looking down at my feet and hoping I didn't have to speak.

"Are you hungry? They're serving dinner just in there."

My eyes caught a movement and I glanced up despite myself to see the man nodding his head towards the end of the corridor I'd just run from.

"I… I just wanted a plug," I managed to choke out, annoyed that I was so meek. His words still set firmly in my mind.

_If I think you're a threat to me or my family, I will not hesitate to put you down, you understand me?_

The man drew his eyebrows together, and I raised my iPod. He nodded, putting his hands on his hips and letting out a long breath.

"There's plugs in there."

I let my eyes flicker down again. "Anywhere less crowded?"

I was quite surprised to see the corner of beardy's face tug upwards, a gust of breath rushing from his nose.

"They're good people. They won't hurt you."

His words mingled with his steady gaze sent a warning right to my toes. I wasn't sure if I was mishearing him or reading too much into what he said - but I could feel that warning behind every word. It hovered just behind his tone, lingering, as if I could forget. I swallowed thickly and gave a sharp nod.

I moved to step around him, fully intent on heading back to my cell. Until I saw a figure move into the corridor, and my body froze. His body mimicked mine, and the air was suddenly buzzing with tension. I saw beardy snap to attention, but he just continued to watch us steadily.

His hand grabbed the strap of his crossbow, and I couldn't make out his eyes through the messy fringe, but I knew he was watching me. My nostrils flared as I battled with the rage that had slammed into me.

I ground my teeth, hard enough to feel pain. He was just watching me, like he would a bear, waiting to see if I would attack. I knew beardy was, too. I drew in a long breath, my hand against the wall as I turned away from the man. I could still see beardy watching me, but I only spared him a glance, instead going the only direction I could.

People may have watched as I entered, but I couldn't really focus on anyone else. The murmurs in the room did dim slightly, but I continued forward until I nestled myself between Maggie and Beth. Hershel was just across from me, and that Asian guy I recognised from the encounter in the woods.

"I didn't think you were coming in," said Maggie after a moment, and I could feel everyone's eyes on me. Maybe not everyone in the room, but certainly at the table. I kept my head slightly bowed so my fringe flopped forward and kept part of my face hidden.

"I wasn't."

My words were only loud enough for those closest to hear, and to keep myself from running from the room I reached forward and grabbed at some kind of dried meat that had been laid on the table.

"How are you feeling?" asked Hershel gently, pushing his plate wordlessly towards me. Beth glanced at her dad and patted his shoulder, standing from her seat and disappearing. I looked at the food and nodded my thanks, finding myself looking up. Beardy had come into the room, sitting with that kid on another table.

"I'm okay," I said slowly, taking the fork from Maggie and starting on the plate of beans and… mush. It didn't really matter what it was, though, because I couldn't taste anything. I was focusing so hard on not exploding that I didn't hear the next question until I felt a nudge from Maggie.

"What?"

Glenn smiled faintly. "I asked you how long you were out there, on your own."

I stopped mid-chew, looking at Hershel and Beth as she sat back down, putting another plate in front of her dad. It hadn't missed my attention that others in close tables had gone quiet too. I continued to chew, the food turning to stodge in my mouth. I swallowed thickly and accepted a cup of water from Beth.

Finally I shrugged, looking into the mug.

"Don't know. Six months, maybe. Five?"

The silence that followed was deafening, and I could see questions burning on everyone's features. I thought that everything had changed when the dead started walking again, but it seemed nothing could kill curiosity.

"What… happened?" Beth's voice was small, like a squeak. I realised suddenly that she looked a lot like Louise.

"Lots of stuff. I don't really want to talk about it."

That seemed to be enough for most of them. I carried on eating whatever the hell was on my plate, and no more questions were fired at me for that moment. When I'd finished, I sat back and risked a look around the room.

That's when I saw him sinking down onto a bench, his eyes cast on the plate. Right next to beardy, who was watching me warily.

"Thanks for the food."

I pushed myself up a little too quickly, grabbing the edge of the table to steady myself. As I limped away as fast as I could, I could hear a few people calling my name. I knew I was making a scene. But at that point, I didn't care. It was either watch me hobble away, or watch how accurate my throwing skills were.

* * *

It was more than obvious when she left. He heard the awkward setting of her booted feet as she tried to move faster than her body could. He didn't look up. Instead, he shovelled a mouthful of cassarole into his gullet, using the food as a distraction.

It didn't matter.

"Now would be a good time for that apology."

Daryl bit the inside of his lips, swallowing a mouthful of the rotten food. It all tasted like the same shitty mush anyway.

"Daryl."

The hunter let out a small noise, could have been a grunt, could have been a sigh. He still held his fork and continued to chew.

"Whatever you did to that girl, you need to make it right."

Daryl swallowed again, this time looking up. Carol was watching him with that steady look he'd seen a thousand times. She knew that he couldn't just ignore her look. She knew she influenced him too much for him to brush her off.

"Dammit," he muttered, chucking his fork onto the table and swinging his leg over the bench, pushing easily to his feet. He adjusted the crossbow across his shoulders and stalked around the small cafeteria.

His annoyance at their persistence had him cursing under his breath, following the trail she'd made back through the hallway.

She'd barely made it halfway to the end before he got there.

"Hey."

He watched as her shoulders hunched forward, and the hand reaching out against the wall balled into a fist. Daryl kept himself still, his eyes focused on her every move, Surprisingly, she didn't turn around. Instead she released her balled fist and continued to move.

"Alice."

Daryl's eyes widened slightly as she turned, her body spinning on her heel so effortlessly that he almost took a step back. Her face was set, her dark blue eyes seething. He didn't need to be close to feel her anger, and for a moment he just stood there.

"Don't speak to me," she hissed, her accent only making her words more venomous. Daryl ran his teeth together, narrowing his eyes as he watched her.

"I just wanted to sa-"

"I don't care. Don't speak to me. Don't come near me. Don't even fucking look at me."

"Goddamnit I'm trying to apologise," he snapped, his voice low. He could feel his own anger flaring at her icy response, even though deep down he knew she had a right to be angry.

"Apologise!" she gasped, sarcasm lacing her words. "Fuck you."

Daryl took a long breath, half tempted to roll his shoulders and keep his cool.

"Look… I didn't mean… I shouldn't have… fuck."

Alice's body was trembling, and he didn't know whether it was from anger or exertion. She looked almost the same as she did before. Her hair was short now, and she didn't look like she could smile. How could he have known she'd survive? It wasn't up to him to make sure of that, surely she knew that truth by now?

She looked so different now. She'd been all jumpy and scared, pretty damn pathetic when he'd met her before. Now it looked like she's laugh at a hurricane. She was still a short ass, though. And even skinnier.

"Didn't mean to… what? Didn't mean to fuck me over like you did? Huh?"

"You weren't my responsibility!" he finally snapped, and he was surprised at the cruel laugh coming from her lips.

"No, you're right. Not like you promised you'd protect me, not like I needed your help!"

Alice took a deep breath, he could hear the strain on her voice as if she were trying not to howl like a banshee.

"Look at you now, though, huh. Big boy protector, all muscles and brawn. Where's the ape, then, Daryl? Where's your tough-as-nails arse hat of a brother?"

He couldn't help his response, stepping forward and into her personal space. The nasty pitch on her voice said she couldn't care less about what had happened to Merle.

Even as he got closer, she just lifted up her chin. Didn't even flinch.

"Don't you talk about my brother."

His words barely came out a whisper, meant to intimidate. Her cobalt eyes didn't falter, instead her lips twisted into a knowing smirk.

"He's dead, then. Good."

Daryl's immediate reaction had him raising his hands to grab her shoulders, shake her until she took her words back. He stopped himself before he could, instead setting her with his worst kind of look.

"Fuck you."

"No, fuck you Daryl!" she yelped, both her hands flying up to shove him as roughly as she could in the chest. He was surprised at the force, taking a step back to steady himself.

"Fuck you. Look at you playing house with these people, all pally-pally as if you've known them for-"

Alice suddenly cut off her rant, her eyes going wide as she seemed to realise something. Daryl ground his teeth as he realised what.

"How long."

"What are you talking about, crazy bitch," he snapped, darkening his words to hide his defense.

"How long have you been with them?"

Daryl felt his eyes searching her face as her features seemed to freeze, her eyes locked on his as if she were asking questions when she couldn't face the answer.

"None of your goddam-"

"How long!"

Daryl winced as her voice rose to a shriek, echoing in the hallway. There was the rustle of moving feet somewhere behind him, but he couldn't find it in him to walk away.

"Since Atlanta!" he barked, taking another step back in case she tried some more crazy shit.

"A… Atlanta. Atlanta?"

Alice was repeating the words quickly, getting quieter as she looked at her feet, shaking her head. The girl had lost her damned mind.

"How long… after me?"

Daryl couldn't hold onto the anger as he heard the tremour in her small voice, the way she lifted her head and those dark eyes glistened.

"How long, Daryl? How long you son of a bitch!" she screeched, limping forward to hit him in the chest. He grabbed her arms and tried to stop her flailing, but she just kept screaming.

"Three days," he finally yelled, loud enough for her to hear over her own howls. "Three days," he repeated as she finally stopped. Her body suddenly went slack, her arms still.

"Three days… three… okay…"

Alice started to nod her head, letting her arms slip from his grasp. He could hear her ragged breath as she fought for control over her breathing.

"Alice-"

"Don't," she said gently, all fight gone entirely from her small frame. "Just don't."

Daryl couldn't move as she turned away, her hand out onto the wall, dragging uselessly against the grey stone.

He didn't speak as she moved away. As people started forward. He didn't move even as she disappeared out of sight.

He only moved when he heard her first sob. Feeling his chest tighten, the hunter turned on his heel. He barged past the people waiting at the end for an explanation. He stormed past anyone in his way, using his foot to boot open the door.

The sun was starting to set, casting eerie shadows over the prison.

Unhooking his crossbow from his back, he yanked a bolt from the holder. The weapon fell from his fingers as he reached the outer gate, his arm raised before he slammed the bolt into the head of the nearest walker.


	10. Then: Three Weeks After Outbreak

I let my fork push the pasta around the metal plate, biting the inside of my lip as I tried to find the urge to eat the slop. Everything tasted like cardboard here, the mac n' cheese especially. It also left a powdery taste on my tongue. I let out a sigh and glanced up, noticing the way Louise just stared at her plate.

"You need to eat something, Lou," tried Matt again, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She kept her eyes cast down but nodded, reaching up to pick up the fork and then mimicking my idle movements, pushing the food around.

"You should be grateful! Soon we won't have the luxury of food, soon we'll all be fighting over the last few beans at the bottom of a can!"

"Hush, Martin. Don't scare the kids."

I watched Mrs Donnelly as she gave the skittish man a stern look before turning to me with a small smile. I tried to smile back, but Martin was getting to me more and more.

He was a skinny older man, with wispy black hair and a constant look of horror on his face. There was definitely something weird about him, and I still wasn't sure whether he was Mrs Donnelly's husband or some guy she knew and felt the need to take care of.

They'd come here together, taken from the same hospital we'd been in. I hadn't pried, but sometimes Mrs Donnelly's soft hazel eyes were so filled with sadness that I had to look away. It was plain to see she'd lost someone, and from the way she always grabbed the cross around her neck, she was scared for someone else too.

They were just two of the thirteen people that were here. Some of them had been brought here right away, part of some kind of neighbourhood that got overrun with the sickness.

Alistair and Joey sat towards the far back, a young couple that were always in close proximity. They kept telling us they were roommates in the old neighbourhood but I'd caught more than a few tender glances between them. I had no qualms with gay people - hell, my best friend Katie back at home told me she was gay when we were thirteen, so how could that ever bother me?

It wasn't hard to notice that some people over here weren't so accommodating. I saw the news every now and again, about the prejudice some people still carried. I knew religion was a bigger thing over here, too, and I always said 'Live and Let Live'. I knew what I believed, and as long as other beliefs weren't pushed onto me, then people could do what they liked.

They were nice guys, though, about the same age as Matt.

The only people who gave them trouble were the Hendersons, and that was mainly Mr Henderson. The man seemed to have an issue with them. He was a real big man in build, with short dark hair peppered with silver. He must have had money because there was just an air of arrogance about him. His wife was called Ella, a beautiful, slight little thing who barely spoke above a whisper. Their kids, twins Emma and Emily couldn't have been much older than ten, and they were the quietest kids I'd ever met. All they seemed to do was cling to their mother.

The other two men I had only seen once. One was short and fat, always sweating and the other was tall and muscular, always looking at us as though we were the most interesting of specimens. I'd heard some of the soldiers talk about the tall one, that he was some kind of scientist they'd found in a little facility not far from the coast.

I turned back to my stodgy mac n' cheese, sighing heavily before putting my fork onto the plate and pushing it away.

"Has Bradan said anything else to you?" I asked Matt. He shovelled the last mouthful into his gob, shaking his head as he chewed.

"Still under orders to hold the base as far as I know."

I bit the inside of my lip, watching as Mrs Donnelly reached over and brushed her hand over Martin's cheek. The man sighed at the contact, nodding at whatever the plump lady was saying.

"I'm surprised we haven't heard anything else yet," I mulled, picking up the mug and taking a small sip. The slightly acrid flavour rushed over my tongue and I winced, but I carried on drinking it anyway.

Earl Grey was not my favourite tea, but it was tea, and better than coffee.

"I don't think that last lot of soldiers came back, you know," said Matt, leaning forward and keeping his voice hushed. I nodded, because I'd noticed the same thing. This base had been full of military men and women when we first arrived, and they'd all been sent of to do one thing or another. But over the days, less and less of them were coming back. The military was dwindling, and the last mission, led by Corporal Jennings, had gone three days ago. From the look Bradan shared with the last three remaining soldiers - I don't think that was a good sign.

"I don't like the fact they haven't let us go outside, Matt. I feel… trapped."

Matt nodded slowly, picking up his own mug and taking a thoughtful sip.

"Hey!"

The sudden burst of sound had us all glancing up and over to Mr Henderson, who was jumping out of his chair and storming over to Joey and Alistair. I noticed one of the twins standing by Joey, and her eyes were wide as her dad thundered towards them.

"Emma you get away from that freak, right now!"

The little girl gasped and ran away, into her mother's arms where Emily was still cradled.

"You! What the hell do you think you're doing, talking to my little girl?"

Joey had paled, his thin face slack and making his eyes seem huge. Joey was only a slight man, with a soft voice. Alistair had already jumped up and stood in front of his 'roommate', even though he wasn't much bigger.

"Hey what's your problem? She'd only asked him to fix her doll."

"I don't care!" yelled Mr Henderson, squaring up to Alistair. The man absolutely towered over Alistair, and his body language was ready for a fight.

"You are disgusting freaks. I don't want my kids anywhere near the likes of you faggots."

"Oi!"

My body jumped at the sudden voice next to me, just as Matt got to his feet and moved over towards the argument.

"Sit down kid, this ain't got nothin' to do with you," growled Mr Henderson. I found myself on my feet, moving towards Matt as my brother stood in front of Alistair. Joey looked like he was about to cry, but I'd never seen Matt's face so set.

"The hell it isn't," snapped my brother. At least Matt matched Mr Henderson in height, even if he lacked the width.

I moved around Matt, gently pushing Alistair back. If Alistair got into a fight then the poor guy would be knocked senseless. My heart hammered in my chest as the air buzzed with tension. Everyone was watching us now, and it only made me angry to see that absolutely no one else looked like they were about to step in.

"You condone those freaks of nature?" snapped Mr Henderson, and I turned to see a vein ticking in Matt's neck.

"Oh get off your high horse. They've done absolutely nothing, and it's arse holes like you who make these prejudices stand."

Mr Henderson's face slowly went from slightly flushed to downright red, and I noticed the way his meaty hands were clenching into fists.

Even though the man had about two feet on me, I managed to stand between them.

"Alright enough," I snapped, my voice surprisingly strong even as my hands trembled. The man could kill me in one felled slap.

"Move out the way, this boy gotta learn some manners."

"This boy is my brother, mate. And you are scaring your kids!" I threw my hand forward, pointing at Mrs Henderson as she cradled her sobbing children. The man begrudgingly followed my finger, and thankfully seeing his kids scared was enough for him to lower his stance.

"You queers stay away from my family, you hear? I won't hesitate to send you straight to hell."

I stood my ground as Mr Henderson looked us all over, sending an icy glare behind me and making me shiver nonetheless.

"Prick," muttered Matt, just as Mr Henderson walked towards his family, ushering them harshly out of the cafeteria and through a door.

"You OK?" I cooed, moving towards Joey. Alistair had his arms wrapped tight around him, looking more than a little fucked off.

"What an asshole," muttered Alistair, putting his face against Joey's head.

"Thank you," said Joey quietly, offering me and Matt a shaky smile. Matt nodded before patting Alistair's shoulder and moving back to Louise, who looked like she hadn't even blinked since the argument broke out.

"Do you always get people like that?" I asked, taking the seat Joey offered me.

"Pretty much," sighed Alistair, still not letting his arm drop. I shook my head, not wanting to say anything offensive about their homeland, but I was still reeling from the outright homophobia. I knew some people were bad, but I was from London. Anything went in London and people were just used to it.

"That's horrible. You'd think people would kind of forget about that shit, you know, considering the world is falling apart and all that."

Joey let out a small laugh through his nose, sighing and leaning into Alistair.

"People will never forget their phobias," said Alistair solemnly. Joey gave him a concerned look and Alistair caught his eye. For a moment I saw something so rare pass between them, unspoken and yet so clear – I didn't know where I should look. So instead I glanced down and let them have their moment.

I'd read so many love stories, some of the greatest kind of love. Romance that tore through the ages. And even though that was beautiful in it's own way, seeing love in the realest form always hit home the most.

I felt my throat get tight as an image filtered in my mind. Mum and dad had that look.

"Hey, you okay?"

I glanced up quickly, feeling the tear roll down my cheek. I gave Joey a small smile and nodded, wiping at my face and trying a small smile when Joey put his hand over mine.

"Yeah... kinda. I suppose I have to be."

Alistair and Joey watched me steadily, almost with understanding in their eyes.

"It'll be alright, honey. It will."

I opened my mouth to reply but was cut off as something burst into life. The static was so high and loud that everyone in the room gasped. The sound pierced my skull and rattled my brain, making it hard to think in the moment of panic.

Martin jumped and ran to the corner where the radio continued to blare, turning random dials until the sound was dimmed enough for us to take a collective breath.

In the commotion, Bradan and the other soldiers had ran into the room just as everyone got to their feet, watching the radio as if it were our salvation. Ironically, it was.

_"...transmission... abort – repeat... Miss... code red..."_

The static was parted by random flickers of a voice, and we all strained to listen. The three soldiers were crowded around the radio, all still as they listened. Bradan bit his lip, his dirty blond hair spiked in all directions as his pale face slowly lifted to look at Jax, the tattooed soldier I'd met the same day as Bradan. Apparently his real name was Simon Jackson, but as far as I knew everyone just called him Jax.

The other soldier was called Yearley as far as I knew, but I hadn't spoken to him before. He always had a sombre expression and avoided everyone.

"Everyone back to their rooms," said Jax suddenly. When we all continued to stand there and watch, the man turned quickly and faced us.

"That was not a request!"

I felt my eyes widen as his sudden aggression, but I was quick to go to Matt and Louise. I took my brother's arm because he didn't look like he was about to listen, and one tug at him had him moving with the rest of us out of the room. We made our way down the corridor and into our room, shutting the door closed behind us.

"What was that all about?" demanded Matt, to no one in particular I knew, but I still found myself answering with a shrug.

"I don't know. We'll just have to wait for them to tell us."

Matt scoffed and shook his head, sinking onto his mess of blankets. I moved to sit on the edge of my bed as Louise climbed back onto the top bunk, crawling under the covers and remaining silent. I sighed and looked at the band on my wrist.

We needed to know something. _Anything_.

Soon.

* * *

The blanket finally slipped off the end of the bed and I sighed, tossing again. I reached up to rub my face, glancing at the clock on the far wall to see it was now half past five in the morning.

A whole night tangled in the sheets and not a single wink.

My mind just kept replaying that transmission, over and over. What was a code red? What were they aborting? Why did the announcer sound panicked? And why hadn't we heard anything else? Why wouldn't they give us an update? Why were we not allowed outside? I hadn't seen the military base as the truck we came in had no windows, but still. We should know something by now.

With another aggravated sigh I threw my arms to my sides and looked at the clock again. I was quite used to staying up all night, but only when my nose was in a book. Now it just felt like torment.

Pushing myself up, I slipped my legs around to the edge of the bed and winced as my bare feet touched the cold floor.

Grabbing the jacket that Bradan had given me when I met him, I slipped it around my shoulders. My hair was lose and knotted, but I didn't have a brush or even a comb, so I just shoved it up into a messy bun and secured it with the rubber band I'd found.

Wiping my eyes of sleep, I stood and padded around, checking to see that Louise and Matt were still asleep. The lights were still dimmed, nothing but the emergency one illuminating the room ever so slightly. They dimmed the lights at night, so that must have meant that no one was awake yet. I could grab a cup of tea, maybe start the breakfast. Maybe I could find some of those powdered egg things. They tasted like shit, but at least we could imagine we were eating real eggs.

I left the room as quietly as I could, padding barefoot down the hallway and through the door, leading into the cafeteria.

The room was slightly more illuminated, but as I reached out to the switch on the far wall, I heard a rustle of some kind. Frowning, I peered over the tables, to the far end where the radio sat atop a rickety table. The small kitchen to the right was empty, the slight humming of the fridge all I could hear.

"Hello?"

My voice echoed around the room, but no one replied. Frowning, I flipped the switch and the room was lit in a bright white light.

"Jesus!"

A figure gasped and rolled off a bench, hissing as the thump of the body was accompanied by a clinking sound. I lowered my head and saw the figure on the floor, groaning against the concrete.

"Bradan?"

He moaned again and pushed himself up, managing to get to his knees and running his hand through his hair. I could see he was only in a white vest top and his khakis. His bare arms were wound in tattoos that I hadn't seen before, but watching him trying to get to his feet I was drawn to what had made the clinking sound.

"Are you... drunk?"

He finally turned to me, his body swaying dangerously as he grabbed a table to keep his balance. As if I had told an amazing joke, he laughed loudly, small strands of hair falling into his eyes.

"Absudelu – no, absonatley. Abso-lu-tel-eey."

He laughed again and I watched him, confusion knitting my brows together. I moved closer to him but stopped as he turned, reaching down for the bottle and losing his balance. He cackled as he fell forward, putting out both hands before pushing back up. I noticed he'd grabbed the bottle somehow. He took a long drag of the dark liquid before slumping onto a bench.

"What's... going on?" I asked slowly, trying to be gentle. Seeing Bradan drunk was one thing that was bizarre, but the other was that he'd leaned down on his knees, looking at the floor without really seeing anything.

"It's fucked, all of it." He took another sip and stood so quickly I jumped back. In one long movement, the muscles in his arms bulged as he launched the bottle across the room. It shattered against the far wall and my eyes widened, panic licking down my throat.

"What's fucked? What's going on, Bradan? Talk to me."

I moved right up to him, even though he stood tall. I knew he'd been young from the flush in his features, but without all those military clothes covering him up, I could see the man he was underneath. That was nerve-wracking, considering I didn't really know him. Yet I felt as though I knew him enough that he wouldn't turn violent, so I reach out and touch his back. He jerked and I moved my hand away as if I'd been burned, only to have him turn and face me. My breath caught in my throat as I saw his dark eyes glistening. Only being so close did I notice the red lines around his eyes, the dark circles under them, the slight stubble on his chin. He looked like he'd been hollowed out, something carved from inside him.

"They're gone," he whispered, his voice trembling. I took another step forward, reaching out to touch him but afraid he'd throw something else. Matt always told me I was too nice to strangers.

"Who's gone?"

"Jax and Yearley. Took the truck last night, gone." He sniffed, reaching up and wiping his nose with his forearm, his fingers still damp from the booze he'd sloshed over them.

I swallowed thickly, trying to digest what he'd said.

"Gone on a mission?" I tried, and his sarcastic laugh only confirmed my fears.

"Yeah, their own personal mission, code name: 'Fuck Everyone'."

I pursed my lips and reached out again, this time taking his biceps in hand and squeezing firmly, forcing him to look at me. He looked so broken, his breathing shallow.

"Why? What's happened, Bradan? You need to tell me."

He frowned and yanked his body away from me, but soon deflated, sitting heavily on the bench. I slowly sat down next to him, close enough to offer what comfort I could.

"The transmission," he said slowly. "We got a better signal. Any attempts at controlling the outbreak were abandoned. All units in the area were called back to Atlanta. It's been declared a safe zone."

I blinked a few times, nodding.

"Okay. Atlanta is a safe zone. That's good isn't it?"

Bradan shrugged his shoulders, leaning forward and rubbing his face.

"So... why did they leave? We could've all gone together."

The broken soldier turned and set me with a strange look, so focused, so intimidating that I visibly shrunk back.

"I'll show you why."

His voice was so deadpan, so flat that I didn't have time to recover before he was grabbing my hand and yanking me to my feet. I would have protested if I wasn't so curious as to where we were going.

Bradan led me through a door and into a part of the base I hadn't seen yet.

We passed doors, glimpses of the inside caught through the little glass windows. I saw empty rooms, I saw store rooms and rooms filled with clothes. We didn't stop long enough for me to gather any real details, instead Bradan leading me through another door, and up to a stair case.

I stopped and looked up, the staircase only about six or so high.

"Where are we going?"

Bradan didn't answer my question because he was already a flight up. I ground my teeth and followed, moving up as quickly as I could. Maybe it was because I hadn't slept, or because I wasn't the fittest person in the world, but by the time I reached the top I was breathing heavily.

The door at the top was open and early sunlight poured through the gap.

"Bradan?" I breathed, still sucking in great lungfuls of air.

I pushed the door to, squinting in the light. The first soft breeze rustled my face, cooling my flushed cheeks. I stepped out, pain stabbing at my feet as I noticed the gravel under my toes. I managed to move across slowly, taking in the rooftop. There was a helicopter pad to the right, sitting empty. Crates and numerous things littered the roof, but it was the figure standing by the edge of the wall that saved him from a death drop.

I managed to hobble steadily towards him, turning my head to see his expression, only to notice the stain running down his cheek. I frowned but followed his line of sight. And that's when I realised that we really had been living in a hole. That we didn't know the half of what was happening. That this wasn't just some virus. This was devastating.

"Oh my God..."

My hand flew to my mouth as the scene rolled out before my horrified eyes.

The base was small, surrounded by a huge gate. But beyond that was a town, or what once was a town. Smoke emitted into the rolling white clouds, the high pitch wailing of a car alarm along with complete chaos. Cars were overturned, abandoned all over the road. I saw shattered windows and scattered papers. What got me the most was the amount of people, shuffling around without will or direction.

They scattered around the gate, down the roads, in and out of buildings, on roofs. All of them moving without purpose.

I turned sharply to my left as whatever I had in my stomach was violently forced from my body. The people were covered in blood, one man wandering around with his eyeball dangling out of the socket.

"This is why they left," said Bradan softly as I coughed up the bile in my mouth. I tried to spit out the taste but my stomach was still rolling.

"What's happened?" I gasped, my voice higher than I'd ever heard it.

Bradan let out a humourless laugh.

"The sickness wasn't just killing people, it was bringing them back to life. Kind of."

I moved and leaned my arms on the bannister around the edge of the roof, bending my body and taking shaky breaths.

"Those people are dead?" Tears streamed from my eyes, and I didn't know whether it was from vomiting or from the utter desolation around me.

"Yeah. They... whatever infects them reanimates them, and they come back with a vicious hunger... for us. A bite is deadly."

I shook my head back and forth, the motion making me dizzy but my brain still unable to process what the soldier was saying. I kept swallowing in hopes I could regain control of my body, but I wasn't sure that was possible with the truth sitting heavily in my stomach.

"Like some kind of horror movie, right?"

I finally looked up at Bradan, and saw how his eyes searched the faces like he was looking for something. Some kind of confirmation that he was wrong.

"Why didn't you go with them?" My voice was a whisper, but easily carried in the early morning.

He turned his head slowly, locking his eyes with mine. They flickered back and forth, searching for something in my eyes.

"Because I swore to protect these people. Military is defence, and what defence is there if we just run away?"

I felt my lower lip start to tremble, his honour hitting me in the chest. I moved forward, reaching up to gently cup his cheek. He didn't shrink away, instead putting his own hand over mine. His eyes fluttered closed and he took a deep breath. I could see it all written on his face. The fear that he made a mistake, the annoyance at not running when he had a chance, and the guilt that he'd even considered leaving us. A good man, I realised.

"We need to go to Atlanta. If that's a safe zone, that's where we need to go."

Bradan nodded without letting go of my hand.

"Yeah, I know."

I felt my heart hanging heavily in my chest as I looked to my left, flitting over the mess of the world without focusing on one face completely. I had no idea how we were supposed to get out of the base, never mind make it to Atlanta. I didn't even know how far away it was.

But I pushed that aside, because that would be the easy part.

The worst would be convincing complete strangers to step out of a fake safety into a hot mess. I just had to hope that Bradan could face it.

I had to hope that I could face it.

As they say, out of the frying pan and into the fire.


	11. Now

Three days. Three _fucking_ days.

The words kept repeating over and over in my head. Only three days after me did that mother fucker run into these people. And from what I had gathered from Maggie, they'd been together a fair long while.

I braced my hands against the bedframe, leaning forward and taking in long gulps of air. My legs were trembling, I could feel that the bandage was damp. I'd pushed myself too hard, and now I had to decide whether or not I could push myself further.

My bones were itching to run, my skin tingling with the need to leave. I shouldn't have stayed here for this long. I should have left as soon as I woke up. I should never have seen how many people were here, seen them laughing and surviving. I would rather have never known any of them.

I'd figured out over time that human interaction creates some kind of bond, and despite really knowing that person or not - you mourn their loss, and you never forget their face. Maybe that was just because it was the world we lived in now, with scarce enough good people that we cling onto them in hopes we could survive another day.

In hopes they could give us the will to keep on fighting.

I slowly swung myself around, sitting on the edge of the bed. The tears were pricking at my eyes now, my throat starting to throb as I desperately tried to keep myself together. It was no use.

I covered my eyes and leaned forward on my knees, trying to stifle the sobs.

How I fucking wished I'd never met them, that they were never there. I wished to God that I hadn't freaked out and just died when I was going to. It would be so much easier to be dead. I would never have to face the harsh truth of reality.

But I wasn't dead, was I? No, I was alive - whatever that still meant. Alive and scarred, terrified of people and what they could do. I would never fit into this group, because I would never trust them. And they would never trust me because of that. This was just an endless circle that went round and round until either we all died or I was alone again.

It only took me a few minutes to regain some control, wiping at my face and sniffing harshly. The tears were waiting just behind my eyelids. It would be easy to break down again, but I refused to. So to keep my hands busy, I grabbed my rucksack, realising that I hadn't even charged my iPod. I would sneak away when dinner was over and try to charge it a little then. It would be nice to have a few days of music to get me to sleep.

I emptied my rucksack, spreading my hand through my things so I could start to arrange them. It had become a habit over time, on those nights where I had nothing to do to keep me busy and I knew I wouldn't get any sleep.

A mental inventory done with obsessive precision. Use as little as possible and count what you could spare, keep what you needed most and only use the least you could in the most dire of situations.

I started to spread my fingers around, separating tools and useful items.

Small box of matches, my penknife. I pulled out a few of the tools from it, checking to see it all still worked. Satisfied, I turned back to my arrangement. It only took me a few minutes to line everything out.

Everything was there, down to my spare underwear. I grabbed the little washbag, emptying it out and going through all the toiletries I had gathered. My toothbrush, battered but usable, my near enough empty tube of toothpaste. I put it all back into the bag and glanced around. The only thing I'd left out was a small box. Part of me liked to think it was a precious little box used for little keepsakes – but to believe that I would have to ignore the sweetly acrid smell that lingered. I knew it was a weed box, but that wasn't what I used it for. Even though, sometimes, weed would be awesome.

I pulled up my good leg and slowly opened the lid, my collection of scuffed laminated cards inside revealing themselves. My thumb ran over the lip of all of them, like a deck of cards. I had memorised every name, wondered about every picture on the left. It made me feel stupid every time I looked at them, yet it was a habit I couldn't break.

Before I realised that the walking dead were just monsters, a constant threat with no semblance of humanity, I liked to remember the people as they were. The first biter I killed, it was a young man. At least I thought it was. When I killed him I sat there for a long time, just staring at his decaying face, smeared in blood. I saw a wallet poking out of his trousers so I had taken it, and found his driving license inside. His name was Thomas Creedy. Twenty nine. He had a cheeky smile in his eyes, and I had killed him.

It became some kind of ritual for me after that until I couldn't keep track any more. It seemed pointless to me after a while, and I told myself I would bury the box for the sake of their owners. I still hadn't got round to it.

With a sigh I closed the box and put it back into my bag. Looking around my cell, I knew I wouldn't be able to leave without being spotted, and someone would probably try and convince me to stay. Night it would be, then.

I could feel myself slipping into an uneasy kind of sleep, one that left your senses alert but your body relaxed. It sounded like the ideal kind of sleep, but I hated it. Mostly because half your brain is still switched on and when you wake up, you haven't really rested. Your body is fine and yet your mind is so exhausted you can't think.

I should have just left, I decided. Waiting until first light would only make my chances of getting out unnoticed even worse.

When I opened my eyes again, I forced my body upright. I shoved my feet into my boots, flung my awful coat back over my shoulders and grabbed my rucksack. Walking still wasn't easy, and each step only sent a bolt of pain down my leg. My plan was to find somewhere secure enough to bunker down for a few days. To do that I would need food.

As I moved as silently as I could with my limp, I wandered past open cell doors with soft breaths echoing into the silence.

I walked around tables and through open gates until I started down the corridor into the cafeteria. As I got closer, I could see a soft light emitting through the darkness. Cursing my luck, I stopped against the wall. Edging closer, I put my cheek to the cool concrete and lowered my breathing. Murmurs were spoken gently into the air, and it only took me a few moments to realise who was there.

"...farming the land."

"I need to be protecting these people, Hershel."

"You need to be showing your son that we can be better. He shot that boy down, Rick, without a thought. Keep him holding that gun and he'll shoot before ever thinking. You need to show him there's more to life than killing people."

I frowned as I listened, inching steadily closer. As I moved, I winced when my foot caught something on the ground and scraped it over the concrete.

"Who's there?" asked beardy, his voice still high strung from whatever conversation he'd been having from Hershel.

I sighed, because there would be no use running now. Not that I could get very far.

Knowing that Hershel was there though… kind of helped. He was an old man with one leg - I could fight that off if I needed to. Stick to the weak for protection, because if they turned then you'd know how to down them.

"Ali?"

I turned the corner and hobbled into the cafeteria. The only light was coming from a small lamp sitting on the table. Hershel sat on the bench while beardy stood to the side, both hands on his hips. I couldn't read much from his expression, although I saw a fair amount of anxiety in his eyes.

"Where are you going?" asked Hershel gently, gesturing for me to sit on the bench opposite. I noticed the two mugs on the table, the pan on the burner behind them.

I shrugged as I sat, putting my rucksack to my side and glancing down at the table.

"You leaving us?" prodded Hershel. I bit the inside of my lip, feeling far too guilty at my own plans that I should have. I supposed I owed these people a little bit of an explanation. They had saved my life, after all.

"I can't stay here," I said, my voice rough from the earlier tears.

"Why not?" tried Hershel again and I sighed, finally looking up. Beardy was facing us, watching our exchange with those piercing eyes.

"I won't fit in here."

"Of course you will, if you let yourself."

I bit along my inner lower lip, trying to find the words to make them understand.

"I can't let myself, Hershel. It's… too much and I can't…"

I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose, wishing that they hadn't been here.

"We can give you safety, Ali. Food and shelter, more chance for survival then you would have out there. We have clean water. What will you do when that child is ready to come out? What if something goes wrong? You have a better chance here, with us."

I looked up and into Hershel's face. I couldn't stand his kind eyes, or his insufferably nice logic. It was getting far too easy to believe what he was saying. That I could be a part of something again, that I could be welcomed.

Then _his_ face came to mind, along with a gust of anger so powerful it knocked the air from my lungs. It only took a moment to settle, and I was faced with that aching sadness. Hershel was watching me, and so was beardy. I didn't say anything because my throat felt like it had been sealed with hot glue.

"You don't have to run any more."

Beardy's voice took me by surprise and I glanced up. His posture wasn't exactly relaxed, but it wasn't threatening either. I saw the set of his jaw though and the constant vigilance. Then I shook my head, because that had only set my plans in stone.

"You don't trust me. I can't trust you. This will never work. Thank you for all you've done, but… I don't want to stay here."

Hershel took a deep breath and I found myself wanting to reach out to him, apologise for my words. But I didn't, because I couldn't. I just hoped he would understand that.

"Then if you're going to go, let me get you some real food to keep you going for a while."

"I can't take-"

Hershel's raised hand stopped my words and I snapped my mouth closed. I watched as the old man turned and got to his feet, limping towards the back of the cafeteria and through another caged door.

"You don't have to leave."

I turned to beardy, watching as he crossed his arms and set me with an empty stare. I opened my mouth to reply but then tried to think of the words to explain.

"I'll always be an outsider here. You've made it clear enough that I'm a threat, even in my condition. Don't be nice to me and offer me sanctuary just because I'm pregnant, or young, or you feel sorry for me. The truth of the matter is - I'm not part of this family, and you wouldn't want me to be." I shook my head and studied my hands, glancing over as Hershel walked back into the room, his arms laden with tins.

I got up and moved towards him, helping him with the load. We put it on the table and I was amazed at the spread. Cans of beans and spaghetti, packets of dried fruit and meat. Boiled rice in bags, and coffee in a small tin.

"I can't take all of this," I almost whispered, shaking my head as my hand ran over the food.

"Yes you can. I haven't taken anything we'll miss. We've got plenty of supplies, you'll need this more than us."

I opened my mouth and closed it again, trying to swallow. I could feel my resolve starting to crumble, threatening to break. It was all I could do to open my rucksack and shove the food inside. I don't think I'd ever had this many supplies on me at once. I would have to ration it and not get tempted to eat it all at once.

"Thank you."

Hershel reached forward, and even though I felt my body tense I forced myself not to move away. His hand took mine and squeezed lightly, my eyes keeping focus on our hands rather than his face. I didn't want to look at him, because I knew what I was doing was the right thing. His kind words and soft eyes only messed with my mind.

I'd feel better once I was away from them. Definitely.

"Can I have my knife?" I found myself asking, looking up at beardy. He turned and I saw his eyes darken slightly before he opened his mouth. I frowned as he seemed to struggle for words, cocking my head and waiting for his answer.

"Yeah. I'll have to go and get it."

"Where is it? I'll get it."

"No," he said quickly, almost defensively. I even saw Hershel frown under his bushy eyebrows. Beardy let out a sudden sigh, changing his stance so that he slumped back a little more.

"It'll be better if I get it."

I narrowed my eyes and beardy seemed to give me a half-smile, which was a bizarre thing to see on his stern face.

"I gave it to Daryl. He was the one who you attacked, after all."

"You _what_?"

My heart jumped up into my throat, and I saw Beardy take offence at my tone. It was a look from Hershel that made me bite my tongue.

"Can you get it back for me?... please."

No I did not want to see that bastard again, and no I would not go and ask him for my knife. Especially as it had been his fucking knife in the first place.

Beardy nodded, sharing a quick look with Hershel before moving out of the room. I briefly thought that it was a bit late to be disturbing someone, and then I decided that I really didn't care. I only hoped Beardy went in there with a marching band and scared the living shit out of him.

"Now are you going to tell me what's gone on between you and Daryl? There is a history there, and maybe it would be better if you told someone. It would ease the tension."

"It doesn't really matter anymore, does it?" I countered, only to be met with Hershel's easy smile. I shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the door beardy had gone through.

"Then call it an old man's curiosity."

I let out a long breath, wondering how long beardy would be. My instant reaction was to snap and tell Hershel in several different colourful ways how he could evacuate my personal space. But then I made the mistake of meeting his calm and collected gaze, and I found myself steadily relaxing my tight shoulders.

"What do you want, the overview or the whole story?" I sounded like a child being caught with their hand in the sugar bowl. Hershel continued to smile gently under his white beard, opening his palms in a submissive gesture.

"Whatever you want to tell me."

I felt my teeth grind together and for a moment I had the urge to run. They wouldn't believe me, wouldn't believe what their precious buddy had done. They might believe me about Merle, if they had even met him.

"Fine. I was on holiday in the states with my family, we… went to Disneyworld and it was supposed to be our last big family holiday before I went to Uni and Matt-"

His name died on my tongue and I bit my tongue, feeling it sitting heavily against my teeth. It was still so painful to say his name.

That's when I felt a rough, warm hand touch my own, and for the first time since I arrived I didn't flinch away. Damn it, these people were getting to me. The quicker I left, the easier it would be to shake them off.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

I nodded slowly at his words, digesting them, rolling them around in my head. It would be better not to, but mentioning Matt had been like opening a floodgate, and now I'd said his name it felt like betrayal not to let people know who he was. Matt deserved to be remembered, even if it was only me who knew him.

"Matt was my brother. We were in Disneyworld, me, my mum and dad, Matt and his girlfriend Louise. We'd only been here a week and we were just riding the rollercoasters and… dad, he…"

I took a deep breath, the hand on mine squeezing slightly.

"Dad died. Then he bit mum. Mum died. We were in this make-shift hospital and then me, Matt and Louise were taken to this base. We were inside for two weeks or I don't even know but we had to leave. All the soldiers had gone, only one of them stayed. Atlanta was declared a safe zone, and it wasn't far from us apparently. So… we… left the base. My family, Bradan the soldier, and few others."

I don't know if it was my tone, or the way it felt like my body had curled into itself that made me catch Hershel's eyes. He was giving me an intensely understanding look, and it both unnerved me and comforted me.

"What happened when you left for Atlanta?"

I let out a long, deliberate breath, trying to prepare myself as best as I could. Part of me was glad that I only dug up old memories long passed, but part of me knew they were still painful to this day. I held Hershel's gaze, using the soft blue to focus my attention.

"Everything went to shit."

* * *

The last time he'd seen him, Daryl had been along the fences. That was after dinner, so by this point he should have been in his cot. Rick changed direction and wasn't completely surprised to see the cell Daryl had claimed was empty.

His footsteps echoed against the prison walls as he searched a few regular spots. He tried the showers, the small activities room, before realising Daryl wasn't inside. It wasn't exactly out of character for the hunter to leave the prison at random intervals in search of fresh meat, but he hadn't seen the gates being opened or closed so as he stepped into the cool evening air, Rick's attention was drawn to the guard towers.

It only took a moment before he saw a small red dot flicker into life and then slowly dim out. The grey smoke was only visible briefly, but it was enough. Rick hauled himself up the ladder and moved to the front where a shadow was sitting, legs no doubt over the edge.

The cop sat down heavily next to his friend, studying the man who hadn't even blinked at the interruption. Daryl had his crossbow on his lap, a cigarette between his lips. They sat in silence for a few heartbeats, only the small fizzle of the cigarette burning as it was drawn floating in the silence.

"What?" said the hunter after a few more heartbeats, flicking his cigarette end over the rail and turning to Rick.

"I'm gonna need that knife back," tried Rick casually. He didn't see the point in asking around in circles, better to just get it out in the open. If Daryl was capable of showing emotion on his face, Rick thought he might have seen something akin to surprise.

"Knife?"

"The one from the girl."

Daryl frowned slightly before patting at his hip. He pulled the knife out after a few seconds and just seemed to stare at it. Rick waited patiently but couldn't help studying the hunter's odd expression. The knife was nothing special, a second-class hunting knife with a thick handle and serrated on one side. It looked worse for wear, the handle even dipping in some places. Rick would have found another one by now to replace it, but there was still something… odd about Daryl's reaction.

"Gonna give it to me?" he asked slowly, drawing Daryl's attention again. The man looked like he'd forgotten Rick's very existence for a few heartbeats.

"Yeah," he mumbled under his breath, spinning the knife between two fingers before holding it out to Rick. The ex cop took it by the handle and nodded.

"Why she need it?"

"She's leavin'," replied Rick solemnly, and the hunter surprised him again by snapping up his head.

"What? Why?"

Rick let out a long breath, putting the knife on his lap. "I don't know. Scared, I think. She's like a wild animal, skittish. I think it's best to let her do what she needs to do."

"That's stupid lettin' her go, she'll be dead by next month."

Rick cocked an eyebrow as he turned his head, watching as Daryl's face seemed to darken. He couldn't shake that morbid curiosity about the connection his friend had to that stranger, but he still wasn't one to pry.

"If I learned one thing in life, Daryl," said Rick after a few more minutes. He pushed himself to his feet and brushed off his thigh, putting the knife through his belt. "You can't reason with women when they got their mind set."

Rick tried to keep the tone light, but Daryl only nodded and turned back to whatever he'd been looking at before. Not that they could see anything in the rising darkness.

 

He heard Rick go. He heard the slight clang of a prison door as it closed, leaving him alone in the early morning once more.

Really, he hadn't been expecting her to stay. Then again he couldn't really say what he'd been expecting, because he'd never expected to see her again. Sometimes he'd remember her. How she would wail at the slightest rustle, or go on for hours about the most mundane of things. She'd been like a bee, constantly buzzing around his head. Funny how quiet the silence could be once you realised there was no more buzzing.

Daryl sat on watch until the grey sky was lit by morning.

It would be a dark day, he could already tell. A grey day, suited for the turning season. He'd kept his eye out but hadn't seen any sign of her. Maybe she'd been convinced to stay by Maggie or Hershel. Maybe she'd left a different route and he'd just missed her. Daryl didn't particularly care either way. He couldn't stand the intrigued looks he'd been getting from the people in the prison lately. Clearly they all wanted to know was what had happened, and he could already see the sharpened pitch forks hangin in the side lines, waiting to be raised in anger when they knew the truth.

Wasn't like he didn't know what he had done. It wasn't fair, or right, but those things had never mattered to him when he'd been with Merle.

Even as the sun rose and he saw Carl moving from the prison, scratching his head and heading towards the pig pen, Daryl didn't move. He steadily watched the sun rise, casting shadows along the walkers lining the fence. They seemed to have bunched together on one particular part of the fence and he mentally made a note to move. Maybe in a few minutes.

The thought of watching her go seemed to hold him still even though he couldn't see her. She must have already gone, he decided.

With a sigh, he reached into his front pocket and pulled out his cigarettes, putting the butt between his lips and lighting it up. Another cigarette, and then he'd go and sort out the walkers.

As he took his first drag, that was when he saw her.

She had the hood of her ridiculously over-sized jacket pulled up, but he recognised her backpack. She moved swiftly across the prison grounds, catching Carl's eye as he brushed down the horse. He could hear the faint mumbling of whatever they were saying, before Carl gestured to the gate.

The cigarette twirled between his fingers, watching steadily as the two figures moved closer to the edge of the prison, to the lip of danger. The few walkers there were easily dispatched by Alice, the glint of her knife catching his eye.

Just as he got to his feet, intent on clearing the small gathering of undead to the left, his senses were suddenly heightened by a surprise yelp.

Alice and Carl was running along the fence, moving to the cluster by the gate. It only took him a second to see that the metal fence was now sitting at a sharp angle, being pressed on hard by clawing hands. Alice had dropped her bag as she tried to move around, pushing back at the fence while Carl grabbed something from the floor and tried to bash at the walkers getting too close.

Daryl had already thrown his crossbow over his shoulder and was sliding down the ladder before he heard the next shout.

This one was definitely a woman's voice, and he recognised it.

He didn't see the people emerging from the prison doors, all he could see were the two figures fighting to keep the gate up. His legs didn't carry him fast enough, and he had to watch as Alice let go of the fence to grab Carl, who had been inches away from a biter's jaw. She yanked the boy free and launched him away from the fence, only just managing to turn in time to duck away from a grasping hand.

"Alice!"

Daryl yanked his crossbow out as she turned, instinctively bowing her head to the side just as the bolt went into the walker's face.

"Grab the fence!" yelled some familiar voice.

Daryl could hear the racing footsteps behind him, but he kept shooting until Alice managed to move away. They'd grabbed her jacket but she'd thrown it off, fighting to move further from the fence.

"Carl!"

The boy had gone back in for the girl, taking her hand. There was an almighty screech, the sound of metal rubbing against metal. Daryl jumped forward, arms out to the girl. She only gave him a small stubborn look before shoving Carl into his arms. Daryl only just managed to pull the boy away as the fence came down, with Alice buried underneath it.


	12. Then: US Army Reserve, Orlando

**3 Weeks after the Outbreak**

“How is that going to help us?” roared Matt, kicking at the chair by the desk. I felt Louise flinch next to me and I sent my brother a glare, wrapping an arm around her frail shoulders.

“Calm the fuck down,” I hissed, and my use of a swear word seemed to get his attention. He set me with a glare and I only stared back until he slumped his shoulders and moved towards us. He sat on the other side of Louise and wrapped her in his arms.

“It's the best option,” I tried again.

Matt only hummed under his breath, rocking the blonde back and forth while she seemed to take some kind of comfort from him.

“We have walls here, food and a fence. The military will come back for all their bases and I don't see how leaving is going to help us.”

I let out a long sigh, pulling my legs up to my chest and resting my cheek against my knees. It had gone exactly how I thought it would.  
When Bradan had sobered up enough for us to talk to the others, there had been nothing but outrage. No one saw the point in leaving the safety of the base, but then again, no one had seen the carnage outside. Not until we showed them.

“How long do you think those gates will stay up? Or how long will the food last? Martin already went through it, we've got enough for maybe two more weeks at the most, and that's with rationing it.”

Matt was scared, I could tell in the way he didn't argue his point with me, but just put his face into Louise's hair.

I stayed quiet for a few moments, let Matt catch his breath and get himself together. It wasn’t long before I heard a pained, but resolute, “Okay.”

I let out the breath I didn’t realise I was holding, nodding my head and slowly getting to my feet. Showing the others the truth had done nothing but separated us, sending everyone to their rooms to think it over. Would it be over in two weeks? How long would the fence hold? Could all of us stay cramped together in here before all hell broke lose and tensions rose to fist fights? 

It seemed unlikely. I didn’t doubt that Mr Henderson would snap, and poor Alistair and Joey would get the brunt of it. 

As I moved past Matt and Louise, giving them the space they needed and leaving the room, my head was spinning. What would happen to us? Would we make it? How were we supposed to get past so many of them? What the fuck were they? Nothing made sense, and I knew as soon as we got somewhere relatively safe, my mind would probably snap with the improbability that this was real. It couldn’t be real. 

“Alice?”

My body jerked in surprise as I turned, noticing the slight figure leaning out of an open door. Joey looked meek, with his eyes slightly cast down and hair brushed forward into his face. 

“You got a sec?”

“Sure.”

I moved over to him and stepped through the door when he moved aside. Alistair was lying on his back on the bottom bunk, one arm behind his head and the other resting on his chest. His breathing was rhythmic and his eyes moving swiftly under closed lids. I turned to Joey, only to see the man watching his partner with fiercely loving eyes. It knotted my stomach, just that one look alone, and for a moment I struggled against the grief threatening to choke me. 

“How’s he doing?” I asked instead. If my voice was a little clipped, Joey didn’t notice - or he didn’t mention it as his attention was turned back to me. 

“He doesn’t sleep much,” said the dark-haired man, the corner of his lips twitching as if he were trying to smile reassuringly. 

It wasn’t particularly hard to tell that Joey was gay - he had quite effeminate features and was softly spoken. Not to mention the way his eyes constantly lingered on his boyfriend. 

“What’s up, Joey?” I asked gently, keeping my voice quiet as to not wake Alistair. Joey let out a long breath, finally facing me. He reached up and tugged a strand of his dark brown hair, almost like it was a habit, a comforting gesture. 

“Do you really think we should go to Atlanta? Alistair… he doesn’t want to go. We’ve just had a big fight.” The young man sucked his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes filling and making the light blue inside shimmer. 

I reached out and put my hand around his forearm, to which he sucked in a sharp breath and nodded, patting the back of hand awkwardly. 

“God, look at me. A grown bloody man crying everywhere, being comforted by a kid.”

I smiled, not taking any offence. The man looked too innocent and fragile, like he was one touch away from shattering. There was no venom behind his words anyway, and I knew everyone thought I was younger than I actually was. 

“I’m not as young as you think.”

Joey quirked a brow, looking me over again before humming thoughtfully. We shared a moment of easy silence, as if we were truly friends here together for different reasons. I could have gotten quite close to Joey, I thought suddenly. We could have been proper good girlfriends, gossiping and laughing at everything and nothing. As it was, though, neither of us could push past the fact we were living through a hell that no one could have foreseen, and on the cusp of deciding whether to head out into the thick of it. 

“I think we should go,” I said quietly, and Joey nodded as if he knew what I was going to say already. 

“I think we should too.”

I opened my mouth to respond, only to have a movement catch my eye. Alistair had turned to his side and was watching us with narrowed eyes. 

“We’re not going, Joe.”

The younger man beside me let out a long breath, but Alistair was focusing on me. 

“Alistair…”

“We’re safer here.”

I cocked my head. “With the Hendersons? With people who are condemning you for your sexual preference?” My voice was sharp, and Alistair bristled. 

“It’s better than going out there.”

“Is it? How long do you think it would take for more of them to turn on you? Who says, once Bradan is gone, that they won’t just throw you both out anyway? I don’t know what Americans have got against gay-”

“We’re not all like that,” said Joey, looking at me with harsher eyes and I let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. 

“I didn’t mean that. I know everyone doesn’t think the same way. And before you start; I’m not trying to be offensive. I just meant that I’m from a different place, and such blatant homophobia is just weird for me. But think seriously, Alistair. Completely forget about the fact that these people are judging you. What happens if the military doesn’t come back? Things could get worse. Atlanta is a safe zone, they heard it on their radio. Braden wants to keep us safe, I don’t think he would risk taking us out there unless he was sure there’s somewhere safer.”

There were a few beats of silence, Joey bouncing from foot to foot as Alistair held my eyes. I saw his hardness crumble slowly, like bricks tumbling from a high stand, and he let out a shaky breath. His eyes met Joey’s, and I felt the air get charged again as they spoke solely through expressions. 

“Babe,” whispered Alistair, his face breaking out into pure anguish, mingled with fear. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Joey made some kind of noise, clearing the distance in a few lanky strides. He leaned over the other man, the two of them embracing hard. 

“I won’t get hurt, I won’t. Stop being so stupid. We need to go to Atlanta.”

“I know,” said Alistair, albeit begrudgingly. “I know we do.”

I glanced at my feet, shifting awkwardly at an intimate display that I shouldn’t be intruding on. Without interrupting them, I slipped through the door and headed through another, before finally stepping into another hallway. Bradan had pointed out where his quarters were, but I was still unsure as I moved slowly. It was a similar hallway to mine, but with more space between the doors. Maybe these ones were bigger?

“Bradan?” I called, feeling slightly overwhelmed in the silence of the eerie hallway. My echoing footsteps were the only reply, and they sounded solemnly over the bare walls. “Bradan?” 

“Alice? In here.”

I let out the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding before rushing forward towards the voice. As I stepped through the door, my eyes were instantly drawn to the massive cage set towards the back. The door was hanging open, revealing the plastic stands and the array of black metal hanging from them. There were more empty spaces than not, but I still gasped at the display of weapons. Things I didn’t even know the name of, things that I’d only ever seen in Daniel’s violent video games. 

“Alice?”

I turned my head to see Bradan sat at some kind of bench, another array of weapons spread over the top. He was wearing his full army get-up, including some kind of flat cap. I watched for a moment, at the way his fingers moved around the massive gun in his hands, like he’d been touching it his whole life. He probably had. 

“Uh…”

“Are you OK?”

A frown creased his brow and he set the sleek black gun aside to look at me, and only then did I realise I had frozen in the doorway. I blinked a few times, feeling for my muscles before finally stepping into the room. My eyes never left the guns on the table, even as I took a seat opposite. 

“That’s… a lot of guns.”

Bradan gave me a half smile, reaching out for the weapon again and continuing to pull and click seemingly random things into place. 

“You look like you’ve never seen a gun before.”

I snorted. “I haven’t. British, remember? We don’t have guns just… lying around.”

“Yeah I heard about that. You really not ever seen a gun?”

I flicked my eyes upwards to see him watching me steadily. “Nope.”

“Wanna hold one?”

“Um, not really.”

Bradan actually chuckled at me and I rolled my eyes, right before he got up from his seat to plonk down next to me. I gave him a small frown as he picked up the weapon, holding it to his chest with both hands. 

“See this here? This is a the safety. Up this way, it’s on. Pressed down, it’s off.” Bradan followed his words with a quick demonstration and I worried the inside of my lip. Bradan flicked the little piece of metal upwards, patted the main body of the gun, and held it out. 

Instinctively I pushed back, but the soldier only shuffled forward. 

“This,” he said with a firm edge to his tone, using one hand to hold the gun and the other to take my wrist. “Is the best defence we have, Alice. Without these, we’re fucked. Come on, it won’t hurt ya. Just touch it.” 

The grip on my wrist was firm, but not hard, and slowly I let him move my hand forward until my fingertips brushed the smooth, cold metal. Feeling stupid, I didn’t resist as the flat of my palm was pressed against the weapon, or when it was slowly passed over to me. 

“This is a M4K1 Carbine,” he said gently, manipulating my hands and arms until I was holding the weapon head down against my chest. It was a lot heavier than it first looked, and part of me wondered how people were supposed to carry these around with them all day. I’d seen all the army films and a few documentaries, so the image of a soldier running with a gun in arm was familiar. It still didn’t make the weapon in my own arms feel any less real or terrifying. 

“I don’t like it.”

Bradan scoffed. “You don’t have to like it, you just need to understand it. I’ll teach you.”

Feeling far too overwhelmed, the reality of my life suddenly blooming a pressure in my chest as if the world were threatening to pop me like a bubble. 

“Alice?”

“I don’t like it, I don’t like it, take it away.”

My words were as quick as the breaths I was trying to take, and despite Bradan’s bright eyes going soft, he didn’t move to take the weapon away. I held it out on trembling arms, unable to let it go from the fear of needing it, but unable to keep it from the terror of what it could do. 

“You gotta get over this, Alice.”

“I don’t have to do _anything_ ,” I snapped, shoving the gun further away from me as my eyes started to fill. 

“I don’t want anything to do with this.”

Bradan narrowed his eyes as they locked onto mine, and for a good few heartbeats we just stared at each other. I could see in his face that he loved these weapons, that he knew their advantages and that they could possibly be the link between life and death. But I wanted nothing to do with them, as stupid and naive as that made me feel.   
His calloused hand reached out steadily and relinquished my shaking hands of the weapon, and even as the weight was taking from me, the ghost of it’s pressure remained heavy in my arms. 

Bradan looked back at the weapon, picking up a rag on the table and continuing his tender brushing of the metal. It was like watching someone coo to a baby, and it set me on edge. The knowledge that I was different, that I wasn’t born and raised here, that not only did my accent make me stand out, but so did some of my ideals. 

There was an ache in my chest after that, a deep kind of open throbbing, like a black hole sucking out every ounce of warmth. My fingertips were numb, my limbs heavy, my chest hollow. Everything was spiralling so quickly out of my control that I didn’t know which way was up any more. Then again, did it even matter? 

“I used to be afraid of guns.”

My body jerked at the sudden sound penetrating my inner turmoil, and I looked up. Bradan was still wiping the rag over the main body of the gun, but his eyes weren’t really focused on it. 

“Did you?”

“Yeah. I grew up in this little town called Rebecca, near Albany. My dad was one of those diehard patriots, you know? He wanted to serve his country, but an accident when he was younger left him half blind. So he pushed it on us. Me and my little brother. Taught us how to shoot, to train, we were soldiers before we were highschoolers, you know? I hated guns. They scared me. My dad would always say ‘you gotta know how to shoot, Bray. If you can shoot, you can survive’. I always thought he was so fucking dramatic.”  
I was chewing the inside of my lip as Bradan laughed humorlessly. I could see the irony in his dad’s words, could see why Bradan looked so torn and sad. 

“What made you stop hating them? The guns I mean.”

Bradan’s hand stilled for a second with the rag, before shakily continuing. 

“We got robbed one night. Woke up to my dad hollering at the top of his lungs. Ran into the hallway and saw some guy at the end, holding my mom with a knife to her throat. My dad had his shotgun, but couldn’t fire, he didn’t wanna hurt my mom. The guy hadn’t seen me, so I snuck into my parents bedroom and got his pistol from under the bed. When I crawled back round, the guy was dragging mom to the door so he could get out. I didn’t even think. I just aimed, and fired.”

I tilted my head, waiting for the conclusion. When Bradan just remained quiet, I found myself reaching over and putting my hand on his forearm. He didn’t flinch away from the contact, instead he put his bigger hand over the top of mine. 

“I killed him and mom was fine. Well, she had to go to therapy, we all did, but we were OK. I joined the army then, because I knew that if I couldn’t shoot, if we didn’t have another gun, then someone or maybe all of my family would have died. My dad taught me how to protect myself, and that gave me the strength to better myself. I know it sounds dramatic - hell, I sound like my dad.”

Bradan finally gave out a smile, and I couldn’t help return it a little. 

“Understanding someone takes away the fear, Alice. You don’t have to like it, but it might be your last defense.”

His voice was so soft that I could almost believe he wasn’t holding the gun out to me again, but part of me was breaking under the pressure of his gentle voice. It still made my heart race knowing that I had a real fucking weapon in my hands, that this wasn’t some BB gun where I’d be aiming at pigeons. This was a live weapon, and I would be taught how to use it. I took a deep breath, and took it. 

“Good. You keep that one, I was doing an inventory-”

“Bradan! Alice!”

The two of us jumped and turned just as Joey burst through the door. My body tensed as soon as I saw the man’s face. 

“What? What’s happened?”

“The… things - they pushed over the fence, they’re inside.”

Bradan was up on his feet, moving around with an effortless grace, grabbing weapons and bags that I hadn’t even noticed. 

“Time to go. Alice, take as many of these bags as you can carry. Joey, get everyone in the canteen, and send someone to help me with the rest of these guns.”

Joey gave a wide-eyed nod just as I jumped to my feet, my clumsy hands nearly dropping the gun I’d forgotten about. 

“Hey.” Something grabbed my forearm and I was forced to stop, looking up into the taller man’s eyes. “Take this bag. It’s got the radio in it, and it’s got all the spare ammo. I trust you to keep it safe.”

The bag held out to me was military grade, all cameo pattern and floppy folds. When I picked it up though, the weight almost made me grunt. 

I struggled to get it on my shoulders, and it felt like it would pull me down if I stood up for too long, but I was determined to be helpful in this. I looked back to Bradan who had slipped another bag onto his own shoulder and had an impressive amount of guns in his arms. He nodded once, and I nodded back. 

I reached down and managed to grab the other three bags, wincing under the strain of so much stuff, but I still charged out of the room. I nearly smacked straight into Alistair, who barely stopped to keep me upright before he moved into what I now realised was the armoury. I hobbled along the corridor, feeling a rush of panic swirling in the air. My shoulders were already screaming, my arms trembling. I only just about managed it back to the canteen, where I was grabbed immediately by Matt. He bombarded me with questions and I answered as well as I could, before he took me in properly.

“Is that… a gun?”

I huffed out a laugh. “There’s lots of guns.”

“Right. So… what are we doing? What’s the plan?”

Dropping the bags on the floor, I managed to shove one over to him with my foot. 

“Time to go to Atlanta.”


	13. Now

Everything stopped. 

Time. Sound. His breathing. The biters, swarming around him. 

Al he could see, all he could focus on, was her arm protruding from under the fence. 

“..ryl… DARYL!”

He sucked in a sharp breath, reality crashing back into him hard enough to stagger. Throwing a glance to the left, he spotted a walker, and without hesitation the hunter whipped up his crossbow and fired a shot. The rotting corpse fell down heavily, but there were more already climbing over it. The others had arrived, he could see them in his peripheral, fighting to get to the fence before the things realised there was a human underneath it. 

“Maggie, to the right! Beth - take Carl away!”

“Dad, no-”

“I’m not arguing with you Carl. Go, now!”

Daryl could hear the familiar grunt, hit, bang, cry of the walkers being fought and yet it still didn’t seem to penetrate his mind. He aimed. He felt the weapon tense in his grip before the bolts went flying. It was familiar, the slight sting of impact as the crossbow recoiled and the following thud of the bolt making contact.   
His body moved. His arms swayed side to side. But it didn’t seem like they were making a dent. She was still under the fence. She was still being crushed. 

 

_“You don’t talk very much.”_

_“You talk too much.”_

_“Anyone ever tell you how much of a charmer you are, Daryl? Can I call you Daryl?”_

_“No.”_

_“Well, Daryl - I’m calling you that - since I’m with you now and you’ve sworn to protect me-”_

_“Listen girlie.”_

_He grabs her arm, they turn. She’s facing him. All big blue eyes and frazzled black locks. Her big eyes get impossibly bigger, and something in him wants to stop the words. Like he wanted to be nice but had long since forgotten how._

_“Don’t talk to me. Don’t ask me questions. I don’t care who you are, I don’t give a damn what your favourite colour is. Stay quiet, stay quick, and you’ll stay alive. Fall down and I ain’t picking you up. Ya hear me?”_

_She looks at him. Long sweeps of those cobalt eyes under dark lashes. It ain’t hard to see the sadness pooling there, but his stern expression never lessens. He’s harsh, he knows this. She needs to know too. She needs to learn how to survive, and survival with him meant silence and obedience._

_He waits for her reply. If she don’t answer, then she don’t come._

_“You don’t scare me, you know.”_

_He could have laughed, especially with the tremble in her voice. He stands tall and faces her, gathering his height. Not like he has to gather much, she’s barely at his chest._

_“No? You better rethink that.”_

_Then she looks up. She meets his eyes. And for a moment he’s stunned. So much fire, burning on hate and pain. It’s so familiar that he has to look away.  
He hesitates a moment, his mind racing to recalculate his opinion of the whelp. That look changes his perspective and he’d need a bit of time to deal with it. Part of him expects a smart comment, but she says nothing. That look said it all._

_He’d have to watch this one, he thinks as he pulls his crossbow higher on his shoulder. He’s turned from her, but they’re moving again. She’d probably stab in the back just as quickly as she’d help him up. A wild fire, this one. Goddamn it._

 

“Daryl!”

Focus came back with enough force to stagger him, and his senses tried to take it all in at once. He was further back now, holding his crossbow high but not yet pulled the trigger. He was out of bolts and the walkers had been pushed back enough so they weren’t trampling on the fence. Glen, Maggie and Carol were fighting off the few biters still standing while Rick, Beth and Tyreese were pulling the dead ones off the fence. 

Rick was red in the face as he hollered Daryl’s name again, and this time he was moving before he could stop himself. He launched himself forward, throwing his crossbow over his back before landing in front of the gate already hunched over. His hands grabbed at torn material and his whole body worked to haul off as many dead ones he could. Sweat ran rivets down his temples and cheeks but he refused to slow down. It wasn’t until he pulled off another one that he caught a glimpse of a pale hand pressed against the mud by the links in the fence. 

“Over here!”

Daryl pushed off from the fence, grabbing the edge and pulling up with enough force to feel something pop and tear in his bicep. The pain made him grunt, but he didn’t let go. His breath escaped his closed lips in harsh pants, but it was mere seconds before Rick and Tyreese were at his side. The three of them lifted the fence, the new slope making the dead biters roll over the links and pile at the end. 

He could see her, curled on her left hip with her legs pulled up and her face against the mud. As the pressure of the fence was lifted off her body he could hear her letting out groans as she slowly wound herself together with her legs against her chest. 

“Beth! Maggie!”

Daryl saw the two women already racing forward, Maggie diving under the fence without so much as a breath. She crawled under, the three men straining under the weight of solid metal. Daryl could feel his hands slipping against the edge, his nails biting into it so he wouldn’t let go.

“Get her out!” roared Rick as he took a step back to brace himself. Tyreese wasn’t speak, but he was controlling his breathing as his arms trembled. They wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer. 

Beth had throwing herself under the fence and together the two girls were dragging Alice out by her arms. Her eyes were covered by her hair, but he could see how pale she looked and how hard she was biting her lower lip. 

“We’re clear!”

Without another word, the three men stepped back and let the fence drop, the echoing boom no doubt attracting the attention of a hundred walkers. They would have to deal with it later, he decided, wiping his hands on his thighs as he moved towards the three figures huddled on the grass. 

“Is she alive?”

It took Daryl a moment to realise those words had come from his own lips. Alice was huddled back into the same kind of fetal position as she was under the gate, and he could already see the crisscross of bruises staining her cheeks. 

Maggie was hunched over her, whispering quietly. Daryl could already see Rick, Tyreese and others against the fence, shifting out the bodies and no doubt coming out with a plan on how to fix it. He could see Rick throwing a few glances towards Beth, Maggie and Alice, but no one else went over. 

It flushed his cheeks with anger as he stalked across the grass. His mouth opened to demand an answer just as Maggie pulled back, a hand raised and her skin painted with blood. She shared a stark look of surprise with Beth before the two of them scrambled to their feet. 

“Is she alive?” he tried, more panic in his voice now than the stern demand he’d first intended. 

“We need to get her to my pa, now.”

Daryl turned to Maggie and frowned, looking at the blood on her hands back to the huddled figure on the floor. He couldn’t see any bites, couldn’t see any scratches. 

“Daryl now! We can’t carry her. Bethy, go tell daddy.”

The young blond nodded, her eyes wide as she raced off back towards the prison. Daryl watched as Maggie leaned down, still speaking softly.

“No...no… please don’t!” yelped Alice, her voice so pained as she tried to curl back in on herself. Maggie was pulling her arms but the younger girl kept yanking them back and wrapping them around her stomach. 

“Ali, you need to see my daddy,” said Maggie gently, but Alice only let out another yelp. 

Seeing the rising panic in Maggie’s face, Daryl pushed the crossbow further over his shoulder and leaned down. As he tried to hook his arm under her legs, Alice yelped again and writhed away from him. 

“Settle down girl,” he rasped, managing to get under her legs but not her head. Alice’s whole body stiffened as she no doubt recognised his voice, raising her head to set those hell fire eyes on him. 

“You stay away from me.” Her voice shook, her face was so pale he could see the veins in her neck. Sweat was beading on her upper lip and her eyes were starting to glaze over. Something wasn’t right. 

Just as he hooked his arm under her head, Alice sucked in a sharp breath. He hauled her up as the first long, agonised howl came from her throat, setting all eyes to the two of them. 

“Fuck! It hurts, oh my God... “ she sobbed. He held her closer and still she tried to curl in on herself, which only had her curling closer into his chest. He bore the brunt of her weight, setting his arms right before she let out another howl. 

“Come on,” snapped Maggie, and he gave a nod. The two of them moved as quickly as they could, Daryl trying not to jar her as she continued to writhe in his grasp. At one point he nearly dropped her, shaking her body as he got a firmer grip. She only sobbed louder. 

Bethany met them at the door, throwing it open in time for Daryl to race through. The cooler air in the prison hit him instantly, but it was no relief as he plowed through the hallways until they got to Cell Block C. 

Hershel stood against the bars of a cell, his body jumping to motion as soon as he saw them. He ushered them in, Daryl half jogging now before he stepped inside and slowly laid her out on the bed. 

She moaned and turned to her side, only to groan and turn to the other. As Hershel and Maggie joined them, the old vet moving over first, Daryl found himself looking into her face. He started as he saw the blue depths boring into him, and for the first time since she’d arrived, he didn’t see hate. Instead he just saw sadness.

* * *

Time seemed to go quicker than he could keep up with after that. He’d been ushered out of the room by Maggie and a flurry of chaos started in the cell. The guy they’d picked up a few weeks back, Bob, came rushing in a few minutes later and Daryl could do nothing but stand by the back staircase. He’d simply remained stoic as Alice’s cries of pain ricocheted around the cell block, drawing in a number of people before they couldn’t stomach it any more and went away. Rick came through to check on her, but a peek through the doorway had caused the man to pale and he’d moved off without another word. 

The only kind of time gauge was the steadily lowering sun, casting shadows around the cell block. More than once Bethany had run out, her arms laden with bloodied towels and sheets before she was back in a heartbeat with a handful more of clean ones. 

Each time she refused to look at him, and he was forced to stand there. It might have been easier if he’d gone back outside, maybe helped put the fence back up. It would have been better than sitting there and waiting, listening to the cries and sobs and screams vibrating in his skull. 

Even when the noise was over, his ears rang from it. Maybe her voice had finally broken. Maybe she had finally passed out. 

As his mind raced over the possibilities of silence, the door to Alice’s cell suddenly swung open. It didn’t hit the wall with a loud bang, there was no force behind it. Instead the room was filled with an eerie creak, the door gliding as if guided by an invisible force. Daryl felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle just as a figure stepped from the cell. 

He’d half expected Alice, maybe covered in gore, a walker after she’d killed Hershel and Maggie. But the girl stepping from the cell was taller, her bright blond hair marred with dirt and blood. It was smeared over her cheek, soiled on her clothing. She held another arm full of bloodied towels, but this one seemed different. This one was a smaller bundle, light flecks of water and deep lashes of blood so dark it seemed red. 

Beth turned, her face white and cheeks hollow before she raised her pale blue eyes up to him. Track marks ran down her cheeks, and her eyes were still overflowing. Daryl took a step forward, but stopped and examined the bundle again. It was hastily wrapped, and through the gap in a fold he caught a glimpse of something pink and fleshy. 

Beth continued walking, moving towards him but looking past him. She shook her head as he reached out, side stepping him and sniffing in harshly before she picked up her pace. Daryl watched her go as the silence of the cell block weighed on his shoulders. 

He understood now. And that understanding came with a crushing pressure on his chest. 

“...not sure if there will be an infection.”

The mumbled words wafted to his ears, and the hunter made his way to stand at the lip of the cell. Hershel and Bob stood at the bottom of the bunk bed, talking in hushed whispers. Maggie was kneeling at the side of the bunk, her arms and hands stained red, her hair sticking out wildly with strands glued to her sweaty forehead. She was half leaning over the bunk, one hand wrapped firmly around a smaller, more lithe palm.

Alice was out cold. Her lower half was wrapped in semi-clean sheets, her top half barely covered by a damp vest. Her skin was impossibly white, her body still coated in a fine sheen of sweat. Her black hair haloed her head, only making her skin seem paler. 

“Daryl?”

The hunter glanced up in one quick movement, startled out of his reverie of melancholy. He could feel the sadness pressing on the air, and his earlier suspicions only seemed to solidify. 

“What happened?” he rasped, his voice scratchy from disuse. 

Bob sighed heavily and shook his head while Hershel set his sad eyes on Daryl. It was the older man who stepped forward, heaving a long breath as he turned to look at the fragile girl on the bunk. 

“What we think happened was as the fence came down, she was crushed on her front. We think the placenta came away and… well.”

Daryl saw Maggie lift her head, her eyes sparkling and cheeks mirroring the same track marks. The hunter knew what she was gonna say before she even opened her mouth. 

“She lost the baby.”

* * *

I remember, when I was young, my dad used to pick me up so high that it felt like I was flying. He’d hold me, his palms to my hips, and raise me above his head like I was a feather. Then, I would stretch out my arms and legs and he’d spin me around so fast that I was floating on nothing but air. 

Strange how similar it felt. Just floating. Kind of swaying towards the dark of unconsciousness, or the grey of waking up. I wanted to do neither. 

The best way to describe it would be a kind of in-between. I read a book once about a girl being murdered and she followed the world as a kind of spirit. She used to call it the in-between. It was a good description. 

Neither awake nor asleep, simply moving by with little to no sense. It was nice. Painless. 

Sometimes I would get close enough to the edge of wakefulness that I could feel. Pin pricks down my legs, up my back, before a rush of aching in my stomach and lower abdomen. That was all it would take for me to shy away. 

Part of me knew there was something else wrong, too. Something that my brain couldn’t quite face, so instead I was washed back into sea of floating. 

In time, I would wake up. In time, I would realise that I had a raging infection and I was out of it for nearly five days. In time, I would have to face the fact that my baby was dead.


End file.
